


AU Yeah August

by Reioka



Series: Rare Pair Hell [2]
Category: DCU, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: All AU's All the Time, Also descriptions of violence, Also there is discussion of drug use!!!!!, Be safe!!!!!!!!!!!, F/F, F/M, It's not on screen but it's pretty heavily mentioned!, Just in general, M/M, Not any character in the pairing, Warning: Character Death in Chapter 13!!!!, Warning: Referenced Sexual assault in chapter 27!!!!!!, au yeah august
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2020-07-29 03:23:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 102,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20075317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reioka/pseuds/Reioka
Summary: Short stories with various rare pairs for each day of AU Yeah August





	1. Tony/T'Challa

Bed Sharing AU

New York was the worst. Why did people live here. What purpose did it serve. Why had he agreed to meet a prospective client here.

_ “You’re coming up on a hotel now,” _ Shuri said, voice tinny through the speakers. It was one of the few times she actually sounded sympathetic.  _ “I’m sorry. I should have insisted on something in the city. I just thought you might like being away from the crowds.” _

“I did until this blizzard came out of nowhere,” T’Challa muttered, squinting through the snow.

_ “I’m sure it’s not a blizzard to New Yorkers,” _ Shuri replied.  _ “In any case, I’ll contact the client and let him know you won’t make it.” _

“Sorry,” T’Challa offered. He knew Shuri had been really looking forward to this deal. It was unfortunate that she’d been in the middle of an experiment that needed her supervision; he would have offered to keep an eye on it so she could come instead.

Shuri was quiet for a moment before she answered,  _ “It’s not your fault. I probably would have gotten lost in the storm too, anyway.” _ There was a clicking sound as she tapped at her screens.  _ “The hotel should be just there!” _ she added sharply.

T’Challa hit the breaks and slid a few feet. Luckily he’d been going slow enough that it probably would have been faster to get out and walk. He peered out the window. “I see it. Thanks, Shuri.”

_ “Stay warm, T’Challa. Call me in the morning so I know you didn’t freeze to death on the way to the lobby,” _ Shuri replied. She was only somewhat joking.

T’Challa nodded and pulled into the parking lot. “Of course.” He let out a soft noise of vindication when he noticed another car with New York plates turning in just behind him, moving more on par with a tortoise than a muscle car. So it wasn’t just him. This weather was shit.

He forgot all about the other driver as soon as he opened the door. Shit. Hell. It was cold. It was very cold. He missed Wakanda. He missed long, hot days and beautiful sunsets. New York was abysmal. Fuck New York. Especially fuck New York in winter.

T’Challa had been so focused on getting into the warmth of the hotel that he hadn’t stopped to consider how full the parking lot had been. Not until the concierge saw the person coming in behind him and her face fell. His gut clenched with anxiety. He didn’t want to have to call Shuri and ask her for more directions because the nearest hotel was full.

“I only have room bed left,” the concierge said nervously. “With one bed in it.”

T’Challa felt his shoulders sag. He turned to ask if the man minded, because maybe if he was native he would know where the next closest hotel was and could get to it. The question shriveled and died in his throat when he actually saw the person .

It was like every cartoon of a kitten abandoned in the rain rolled into one. The man was wet, and shivering, and his eyes were big and brown and the only thing visible on his face because of the scarf wrapped around up to his nose. There was still snow in his hair.

He said something that sounded like ‘bebed.’ The concierge stared at him, uncomprehending.

Luckily, T’Challa had a little sister who often talked with her mouth full when she was in the middle of a project and their mother wasn’t there to scold her. “How big is the bed?”

The concierge’s eyes darted back and forth between them. “Uh―it’s a full.”

T’Challa turned to look at the man. Somehow, the man managed to wordlessly convey his hopefulness with just his big brown eyes. He was giving T’Challa the choice, since he’d gotten there first.

T’Challa had always been weak for kittens.

“We’ll take it,” T’Challa said. “And an extra blanket.”

.-.-.-.

“Thanks,” the man said once they’d stepped into the room, beginning to unwind his scarf. “Also sorry for making that lady think we’re a gay couple.”

“I mean… if she thinks I’m the sort of asshole to not hold the door open for my boyfriend, that’s on her,” T’Challa muttered. If he’d known the man had been so close behind him, he of course would have held the door open for him. He just hadn’t been able to see him through the snow.

“In any case, thank you,” the man said again. “I can sleep on the floor, if you―oh,” he said when he saw T’Challa was spreading the extra blanket over the bed.

T’Challa stripped off his coat and grabbed a hanger to put it on. “This night is already weird. As long as you don’t snore, I don’t mind sharing a bed.”

“I talk in my sleep around one in the morning,” the man offered. “But you can just push me out of the bed then.”

T’Challa considered it, remembered this man was a stranger and not his sister, and asked, “Can I just wake you up instead?”

“Oh,” the man said.

The man’s honest surprise that he would rather wake him up instead of assault him made T’Challa finally turn.

He nearly swallowed his tongue when he saw the man was staring up at him as if he didn’t know what to say. He somehow looked even more like a kitten now, bright-eyed and wondering. He had also stripped off his coat and boots and was even smaller than T’Challa had previously thought. Why would he  _ ever _ push a kitten out of bed? Especially a tiny one?

“I’ve also been told I cuddle people when I’m asleep,” the man warned weakly.

T’Challa considered this as well, but immediately disregarded it as unimportant. Anything would be better than the time he and Shuri got stuck in the mud and had to sleep in the car until help came. She’d stuck her feet in his face. Having someone (handsome) hug him in his sleep wasn’t a big deal. “The body heat will keep me from dying,” T’Challa said. “Because New York is awful and cold and I hate it and I want to go home.”

The man couldn’t help a bark of laughter, and T’Challa thought the smile on his face was much better than the concern or the wide-eyed wonder. “You and me both! I grew up here! It’s why I moved to Malibu. Fuck the cold. As soon as this blizzard blows over, I’m going home and never leaving again.”

T’Challa felt even more vindicated than he had been earlier. This native New Yorker had called the storm a blizzard, too. It wasn’t just him. “I’ll make my sister come to New York next time,” T’Challa agreed. He held out his hand. “T’Challa.”

“T’Challa?” the man repeated dumbly, taking his hand.

T’Challa had gotten that response every time he’d introduced himself since leaving Wakandan soil. “Yes. It’s Wakandan.”

“I’m supposed to meet a Wakandan,” the man said, voice small.

T’Challa paused, staring at him, before asking, “Tony? Tony Stark?”

“Oh my God and you saw me after I fell on my ass in the snow,” Tony gasped, horrified.

“Well it’s a good thing I did,” T’Challa said with good humor. “You looked so sad, I had to let you share my room.”

“If my partner ever hears about this, she’ll cut off my balls and make me eat them,” Tony said miserably. “We wanted to make a good impression. We really want to work with you and your sister on combining green energy. Me dragging you out in a blizzard because I’m too stubborn to admit the weather is better than me is not a good impression.”

“Tony,” T’Challa said.

Tony looked like he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him. “You could have gotten hurt. And you said you hate it here and want to go home! I should have agreed to come to Africa to meet you instead!”

“It’s fine,” T’Challa said. “I was joking. Please calm down.”

“And now you’re letting me sleep in bed with you instead of on the floor after I was the worst person ever!” Tony wailed.

T’Challa had never been able to turn his back on a crying kitten. It was why his mother had threatened to kick him out when he brought home an entire box of them. “Tony,” he said again, but Tony was beginning to work himself into a frenzy, and he wasn’t quite sure how to break through his frantic rambling. So he just picked Tony up and put him on the bed.

Tony looked like he’d been struck by lightning. “What are you doing?”

“I’m cold. I’m tired. I just got off a plane two hours ago,” T’Challa explained, walking around to the other side of the bed. He pulled the blankets back and crawled under them. “I want to warm up and sleep. I’ll ignore you putting my life in danger if you let me put my toes on you.”

“Oh,” Tony said, doing that thing where he looked wondering and awed all at once.

T’Challa did not want to know why basic human kindness was foreign to him and so did not wait to put his toes on Tony’s leg. Tony made an adorable yelping noise, offended, but didn’t move.

.-.-.-.

Tony did not talk at one in the morning, but T’Challa did wake up to find Tony curled around him like the world’s clingiest koala. T’Challa went back to sleep and didn’t wake up until both of their phones started going off at nine. Tony didn’t move, curled up against his chest.

T’Challa silenced their phones, curled around Tony again, and went back to sleep.


	2. Clint/Tony

Convention AU

Clint pulled at his robes uncomfortably. “Did I really have to dress up?”

“Yes,” Natasha answered immediately. She did not look up from the signed photo of Carrie Fisher she was holding. They’d waited in line for an hour for it and by the time they’d reached the signing table, Natasha had only managed to blurt out ‘You mean the world to me’ and start to cry. Luckily Carrie Fisher had been very nice about it.

Clint sighed. At least she’d let him come as Obi-Wan instead of as Leia. She’d been pushing for Luke if he had issues dressing as a girl, but when she’d tried to costume him she’d muttered ‘too muscular’ and that had been that. If she’d found a wig that wouldn't have itched, he wouldn’t have had a problem with being Leia.

“Well, I’m hungry, and that panel about disabled superheroes isn’t for another hour, so I’m gonna go get something to eat,” Clint said. “You can come if you want.”

“I need to go put this someplace safe,” Natasha decided. “I’ll text you when I get back.”

“Great, well, I’m not buying you anything unless you’re within ten minutes’ walking distance,” Clint informed her. “I saw a gyro stall and I’m craving lamb.”

Natasha took off quickly, determined to be back in time for him to buy her lunch. He was not sorry about playing her like a fiddle. He didn’t want to be at this convention alone anyway. He wasn’t as big a sci-fi or superhero nerd as she was.

Clint stopped off at a coffee cart for a mocha to give her a little more time to catch up. He would forever thank both Natasha for dragging him to this convention and the coffee cart for being where it was.

Clint saw a gold-bikini Leia. That alone wouldn’t be too incredible, what with there being several Leias in several different costumes wandering the convention. What was special about this one, though, was that he was the most attractive man Clint had ever seen. The gold bikini and red skirt were beautiful against his skin, and his goatee somehow didn’t detract from the beautiful vision of him at all. He had a wig dangling from one hand, but Clint privately thought he looked better without it, especially with his saucy smirk, hip cocked to one side. There were three kids with him, dressed as Luke, Han, and Chewbacca.

Clint was in love.

“Mr. Stark!” Han exclaimed, tugging at smokin’-hot-male-gold-bikini-Leia’s arm. “Look! An Obi-Wan Kenobi! Do you think he’ll take a picture with us?”

Smokin’-hot―Uh, Mr. Stark turned to look at him. Clint tried not to look like too much of a doofus, but didn’t know how well he managed; he was a doofus pretty much all the time. Natasha had told him so.

“Would you mind?” Mr. Stark asked.

“No,” Clint choked out, and then, “Uh, what… who’ll―”

“I brought a selfie stick,” Chewbacca said, and Clint had to do a double take, because oh, this Chewbacca was a girl. She held her selfie stick up proudly. “I took a picture with Mark Hamill with this.”

“That’s cool,” Clint wheezed as Mr. Stark sidled up beside him and curled an arm around his waist. He told himself to be cool. Just because the man had put his arm around him didn’t mean anything. Would it be inappropriate to lick him? Probably. “You smell good,” Clint said, and then clamped his mouth shut, horrified.

Mr. Stark just smiled. “Thanks! It’s Hermes 24!”

He didn’t know what that meant, but it would still probably be inappropriate to lick him, Clint lamented, curling his arm around Mr. Stark’s waist as well. He was warm, and his skin was soft. He wanted to put his mouth on him so badly.

“Say R2D2!” Han said cheerfully.

“R2D2,” everyone repeated with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

“Thanks,” Mr. Stark said as the kids immediately gathered around the phone to examine the picture. “Sorry if this put you out.”

“_ Hng _ bikini,” Clint said, and then seriously considered drowning himself in the last dregs of his mocha.

Mr. Stark did not look offended in the slightest. “Yeah, well, Michelle―”

“M.J.!” Chewbacca called back.

“―M.J. was all put out about being Leia by default of being the only girl,” Mr. Stark said, scratching idly at his collarbone. “So Ned and Peter said she could be whoever she wanted and they’d follow her lead, and then they begged me to dress up, but I said I’d only dress up if it could be as Slave Leia.”

“If we’d known so many people were going to hit on him, we wouldn’t have pushed,” Han lamented.

Han, Luke, and M.J.-slash-Chewbacca gave him pointed looks. Clint refused to be shamed by twelve-year-olds and told them so.

“I’m Tony, by the way,” Mr. Stark said, holding his hand out to him before the kids could sputter that they were not twelve, as if he hadn’t already known that and was just pushing their buttons.

Clint took it. “Clint.”

“Now, if I’m being too forward, tell me,” Tony said. “But I’d like your phone number so we can maybe go on a date. Help me, Obi-Wan. You’re my only hope.”

Clint stared at him blankly. “What?”

“This dumb ass has slept through every God damn Star Wars movie I’ve ever tried to make him watch,” Natasha snarled, appearing out of nowhere. She began shoving a piece of paper at Tony. “Here’s his number. Take it before he sabotages himself.”

Tony looked terrified but also somewhat intrigued, reaching out to take the piece of paper with Clint’s phone number on it obediently.

“I’m usually cooler than this,” Clint tried.

“He’s not. He’s a loser. But he’s got a heart of gold,” Natasha cut in.

Clint glared at her. “Will you let me flirt for myself?!”

“No,” Natasha replied, unimpressed.

“It’s okay,” Tony offered. “I have a friend like that too. She just refused to be seen with me when she saw the bikini.”

“Probably afraid she couldn’t keep her hands off you,” Clint offered. “Because honestly? It’s been very hard not to put my mouth on your… entire everything.”

“Gross,” Han, Luke, and M.J. complained.

Tony waved them off. “Go away. I haven’t had a date in three years. Let me flirt.”

“Come on,” Natasha offered. “I’ll buy you guys a cookie.”

“If you kidnap them you have to keep them!” Tony called after her. “I don’t want them back!”

Clint smiled. “Come on, have a heart. Natasha doesn’t know how to take care of kids. Besides, she’s being our wingman! You gotta give her points for that!”

“Well, I guess so. This is okay, right?” Tony asked, suddenly shy. “I mean. Some people are too intimidated by my…” He motioned at the costume he was wearing. “...Everything.”

“God, just put your everything all over mine,” Clint begged helplessly. “Or I will absolutely perish.”

Tony smiled. “Only a Sith deals in absolutes.”

Clint stared at him blankly. “Is that another quote?”

“Oh my God,” Tony said, honestly shocked. “You really _did_ fall asleep through the movies whenever your friend put them on, didn’t you?”

“Sorry,” Clint said. “But I’ll let you dress me up in whatever costume you want, if that helps.”

Tony looked him up and down slowly, speculative. “...Even if it’s just for in the bedroom?”

“_Especially_ if it’s just for in the bedroom,” Clint wheezed. “Please put your face on mine.”

Tony laughed, coming closer again. God, he really did smell good. Clint couldn’t really be faulted for putting his mouth on him, he decided.

With the way Tony mewed against his lips, he figured Tony agreed with him.


	3. Sam/Tony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fell behind because of prep for a family reunion but I will endeavor to catch up!

Cruise Ship AU

Tony was having… the worst vacation.

Pepper and Rhodey had thought a cruise would be a good idea. He could be waited on when he wanted, left alone when he wanted, and the short excursions from the ship were fine to do alone―or, if he met someone he clicked with on the ship, with a partner. He needed to ‘get away from it all’ and ‘forget some of the things that had happened.’

Yeah, forget that his business partner and father-figure had been double-dealing to terrorists behind his back. He was sure this sailing biohazard was going to help him do that. Why, it wasn’t as if people didn’t keep giving him second glances anyway, weren’t pointing and whispering behind their hands. Relaxing. He’d definitely get over that in the next five days of the cruise.

Tony was just considering going back to his room and staying there until they reached a port where he could bail from the cruise when a tall blond man approached him with a tray. Tony did not recognize the drink on it.

“I didn’t order this,” Tony said.

The waiter looked longsuffering. “It’s from the bartender.”

Tony took the glass cautiously. “What is it?”

“It’s uuuuuuuuh,” the waiter began, looking down at his hand, which Tony could see had marker on it. “You know what? I’m not telling you. This is embarrassing. I hate this.”

Tony grabbed for his hand but mostly missed, too focused on his drink. “Tell me what it’s called!”

The waiter sighed again, looking like no one was more put upon than he. He looked back down at his hand. “It’s called the ‘smile for me, sunshine.’”

Tony gaped up at him, speechless.

“I’m pretty sure it’s just a lemon basil margarita,” the waiter added. When Tony only continued to gape up at him, he added a hasty, “Enjoy your drink,” before bolting back toward the bar.

Tony watched him get into a very quiet, very heated argument with the bartender, who was very handsome and very unapologetic, if his smug expression was anything to go by.

Well, it did taste good, he decided. He tipped the half-empty glass at the bartender, who punched the waiter in the shoulder and grinned triumphantly.

.-.-.-.

Tony had barely sat down on one of the lounge chairs when he was approached by the waiter again. The drink he was holding was blue, with a slice of pineapple on the rim. He looked miserable.

“I know what this is,” Tony offered. “Blue Hawaiian, right?”

The waiter sighed. “Technically, yes.” He looked at his hand, face twisting with dismay. “But he said to call it ‘the skies after I saw your smile.’”

Tony gaped up at him.

“Granted, you’ve only smiled once since I’ve seen you, but it’s a nice smile, I guess,” the waiter added.

“You  _ guess?! _ ” Tony squawked, irrationally offended. Rude. The bartender thought his smile had cleared the clouds from the sky and this guy thought it was a nice smile, he  _ guessed _ . Ridiculous. Tony was a  _ delight _ .

“It’s on the house,” the waiter said hastily before darting away.

Tony scowled after him and took a long, obnoxious slurp of his drink. Then he took another, slower drink, pleased. It was good. And he wouldn’t lie and say that he wasn’t flattered that his smile had brightened someone’s day. He glanced at the bartender, who wasn’t even pretending not to be looking at him for his reaction, and smiled at him.

The bartender lit up like a Christmas tree and waved.

Tony waved back shyly. He thought about getting up and going over to him, having a conversation, but just as he was pushing himself to the edge of his seat, he saw someone pointing at him as she whispered to her friend.

He felt like he’d had a bucket of ice water thrown on him. He’d been having so much fun that he’d forgotten for a moment where he was.  _ Who _ he was. He wasn’t just a guy enjoying a cruise and flirting with a bartender; he was Tony Stark, who had only just recently been cleared of the treason his business partner was found guilty of.

Tony put the glass down, stood up, and walked back to his room. He wondered when they’d pull into port so he could go home and hole up in his own house.

.-.-.-.

“Hey,” the waiter said softly. “This is your third one.”

“And I’ll probably have a fourth one,” Tony snapped, taking the glass of whiskey off his tray. “Mind your own business and leave me alone.”

The waiter took a deep breath, then let it back out through his nose slowly. “Okay,” he said, and turned and walked away.

Tony scowled down at his glass. Pepper had insisted he stay on the cruise. She’d said he could come home, of course, if he was really unhappy, but would it really have made him feel better to come home? And he had to admit she had a point. At least here, on the cruise ship, he wouldn’t look around his home and remember all the things that Obie had done for him, made him feel grateful for. All Obie had really been doing was manipulating him. Those weren’t actually good memories; just memories of him being used by someone he trusted.

Tony threw the whiskey back and wondered how drunk he would have to be for his falling overboard to be considered an accident, and then immediately felt bad for it. He didn’t… didn’t really think that way. He was just… sad.

“You okay?” someone asked, sitting down beside him.

Tony frowned down at his empty glass. “As okay as I’ll ever be,” he decided. He turned. “Why do you―”  _ ask _ , was on the tip of his tongue, because no one ever actually cared if he was okay, not unless they were Rhodey or Pepper or Happy.

But it was the bartender, and he looked concerned. That was unfortunate, Tony decided. He was so impossibly handsome, had been so nice to him, and here Tony was, just… being himself. He shouldn’t concern himself over Tony. Tony took a peek at his name tag. Sam. Sam was such a nice name. Too bad Tony wasn’t a nice person.

“Steve mentioned I should cut you off soon,” the bartender said, turning the glass in front of him in slow circles. “You’re drinking a lot and you’re drinking it quickly, so I agreed with him. This is your last drink tonight.” He slid the glass over to sit in front of him instead. “Here. Vodka cranberry.”

“Oh,” Tony said, somewhat disappointed. Just a vodka cranberry. But that was fine! He wasn’t in a very good mood anyway, so if Sam decided he wasn’t worth flirting with anymore―

“It’s the same shade of pink as your cheeks were when Steve told you I thought you had a nice smile,” Sam explained, smiling a little, before he got up and went back to the bar.

Tony stared down at his drink, stunned, cheeks going redder than the cranberry juice in it.

.-.-.-.

“So, uh,” Tony said, sidling up to the bar. “Um, this is the last night of my cruise.”

“Yup,” Sam said, looking amused. “Seven days is typical on these.”

Tony nodded, nervously rubbing his sweaty palms over his slacks. “Yeah. And I uh―well, I was wondering if―”

Sam raised an eyebrow, smiling. “Yeah?”

Tony wanted to die. He’d never been bad at this before. “I was… I wondered if you’d… um…”

Sam began to look concerned. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, as if deciding to let him try to finish.

Tony wished he’d put him out of his misery instead. He couldn’t just ask him out though, right? That was… rude. Service workers complained about being hit on all the time just for doing their jobs and being nice about it. But Sam had been… flirting, hadn’t he? The ‘smile for me, sunshine?’ The ‘the skies after I saw your smile?’ The vodka cranberry the same shade as his blush? It had to mean something, right?

“Make me one last drink?” he finally said lamely.

Sam looked a little disappointed even as he reached for the glasses, but then he smiled at him. It was dimmer, somehow. “Of course. What did you want?”

Tony’s mind raced. Should he ask for one of his previous drinks? Should he be cute and make one up with a flirtatious name? Should he just bite the bullet and ask for Sam’s number instead?

In the end, he did none of those things, and said, “I’d like sex on the beach.”

Sam gaped at him, speechless.

Tony stared back at him, stunned, then nodded to himself. “Yup.” Then he turned around and ran away, mortified.

.-.-.-.

“You are a hard man to find,” Sam complained, leaning against the doorway.

Tony squeaked. The mortification hadn’t faded. In fact, seeing Sam here, now, leaning in his doorway and being stupidly attractive doing it, the mortification was ratcheting up higher and higher.

“...You walked away without your drink,” Sam said, and held up a highball glass, the bottom filled with deep red liquid, with a perfect, slow gradient all the way to a soft yellow at the top. It was beautiful. “I worked hard on it. You should appreciate it.”

Tony squeaked again.

Sam stared at him for a moment, concerned, before smirking at him. “I’ll just leave this here. It’s on the house.”

“Sam,” Tony squeaked as the drink was pressed into his hands.

“And here’s my phone number,” Sam added, tucking a slip of paper into the pocket of his gaudy Hawaiian shirt. “So you can text me. Because I’ve still got four months on this ship. But it’ll be worth it if I can meet up with you again.”

“I didn’t really want sex on the beach,” Tony said, absolutely not squeaking anymore, no matter what anyone might say. “It just came out.”

Sam laughed. “I know. I figured that out when you said you wanted sex on the beach and not ‘ _ a _ sex on the beach.’ I just figured it was a good excuse to track you down and give you my number.”

“Oh,” Tony said, blushing, and grabbed the maraschino cherry to pop into his mouth for lack of anything better to do.

Sam watched him, licking his lips as Tony licked some of the drink from his finger. “...Work,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. “I’m still working.”

“Then you should get back to the bar,” Tony offered, finally managing a coy smile.

“You can pretend to be a minx all you want but you told me you wanted sex on the beach and then ran away,” Sam said.

Tony considered this, then closed the door to his room.

“I think it’s cute!” Sam called through the door.

Tony took a long slurp from his drink.

“Text me! No embarrassment allowed!” Sam called again.

“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t!” Tony called back.

“You will,” Sam said confidently.

Tony pulled the door open just far enough to peek out, watching him walk away. “I will,” Tony agreed to himself softly, smiling a little.

.-.-.-.

“So… sex on the beach?” Sam teased, duffle bag slung over one shoulder.

“I know you’re just saying that to make fun of me but as someone who has had sand in places that sand should not be, sex on the beach is  _ never _ . Happening,” Tony informed him primly, and then squawked when Sam laughed so hard he almost took a header off the dock.


	4. Pepper/May

Immortal AU

“My name is May Parker,” May said, like a fool.

And like a fool, Pepper fell in love.

“This is the worst thing you’ve ever done,” Tony informed her primly after she’d led the human from their realm. “Absolutely foolish. Laughable!”

“It wasn’t worse than the time I cursed your eyes to cross whenever you were around someone you were attracted to,” Pepper reasoned.

“My mother thought it was funny,” Tony exclaimed. “She will not find you escorting a human who told you her name back to her realm funny!”

“She said she must get home to take care of her child,” Pepper reasoned. “Your mother likes human children. She thinks them amusing.”

Tony’s mouth firmed into a flat, unimpressed line. He said nothing with his voice, but his face expressed how much that reasoning would not sway his mother’s wrath.

Pepper remembered the way the human had pushed her glasses back up her nose when she realized they were sliding down and did not feel sorry whatsoever. “Are you going to help me court her or not?”

“If Mother is going to have us drawn and quartered, I suppose it might as well be for something big,” Tony muttered petulantly.

Pepper beamed at him. “I’ll put in a good word with the Rogers Court for you.”

Tony doubted that would make any difference after he’d crossed his eyes at basically every high-standing fae in the Rogers Court and been told in no uncertain terms not to come back. “What year is it to humans, anyway?”

.-.-.-.

“Pepper!” May exclaimed, surprised.

“Greetings,” Pepper replied. She held up a zucchini. “Are you also here to buy vegetables?”

“Uh,” May said, blinking up at her. “I―yes? I always come to the Saturday market. Funny,” she added to herself. “I feel like I would have remembered you if I’d seen you before…”

Pepper screamed internally, unsure what to say.

“Oh,” Tony simpered. “She followed me here. She’s very particular about how organically food is grown, and she’s seen my farm, so she trusts me.”

She really would have to put in a good word for him with the Rogers Court, Pepper decided as she beamed at May. “Yes! Tony is very conscious of his plants. And he keeps his own bees!”

“Oh,” May said, smile dimming. “That’s… neat.”

“Does he sell honey?” a boy asked, popping up from behind her. “Mr. Tony! Do you sell honey?”

Tony turned from giving Pepper a dirty look, friendly smile in place. “Not yet. Should I be? Is there a market for that?”

Pepper watched the two of them begin to chat about bees and honey, then turned to May, smiling hopefully. “Do you like honey, May?”

“I suppose,” May said, looking away from her. She reached out to touch the boy’s shoulder. “Come on, Peter. You wanted to go look at those necklaces for your friend’s birthday, didn’t you?”

“Oh, yes,” Peter said happily, grabbing her hand and pulling her further into the market.

Pepper watched them leave, dismayed.

“You’re the worst,” Tony began as soon as soon as they were out of hearing range. “Tony’s so great! Tony keeps his own bees! Tony’s better than you in every way!”

“How does you keeping bees make you better than her?” Pepper asked, bewildered. “She’s way better than you!”

Tony muttered to himself angrily, and Pepper swore she caught ‘useless lesbians,’ which she didn’t understand, because she was one of the most powerful fae in their realm, and also she didn’t care about gender. May just so happened to be the prettiest human she’d ever seen.

“What are you doing?” a familiar voice asked, and Tony went stonily silent.

“Hi, Steve,” Pepper said sadly, still staring off in the direction May and Peter had gone. “I’m courting a human.”

“Ew,” Steve said, and then looked at the table full of vegetables Tony was sitting at. “...Did you grow these? I didn’t know you had a green thumb, Tony.”

Tony looked hurt for a fraction of a second before he looked thunderously upset. “I bet you think I’d just kill all my bees, too, don’t you!?”

“Wh,” Steve began, startled, before Tony disappeared with an upset little ‘pop!’

Pepper frowned after him. She really should apologize for her prank. She’d had no idea it would make him so upset.

Steve stared at where Tony had been sitting for a moment longer before turning back to her. “Why are you courting a human?”

“None of your business,” Pepper answered immediately.

“She must be really pretty,” Steve decided. He reached out to grab a cherry tomato.

Pepper slapped his hand away from it. “No. You hurt Tony’s feelings.”

“All I did was say I didn’t know he had a green thumb!” Steve exclaimed, wounded.

“After you threatened to curse him for crossing his eyes at you,” Pepper said. She circled the table to sit at it. No use letting good produce go to waste, and maybe Tony would soften if she showed him some profits for his work.

“He was crossing his eyes at everyone!” Steve began, drawing himself up in offense.

“Yes, because I cursed him to do that whenever he was around anyone he found attractive,” Pepper said. She stared at him judgmentally. “It was a prank. Your court doesn’t have a very good sense of humor, does it?”

Steve gaped at her, speechless.

.-.-.-.

“Here’s some honey on the house,” Pepper said, shoving a jar at May before she could even open her mouth.

May stared at her, stunned, then turned wide eyes on Tony.

“It’s not on the house,” he said sourly. “She paid for it. It’s a gift.”

“I didn’t want to be weird,” Pepper admitted.

May turned her startled gaze back on her. “I mean. It wouldn’t have been until you tried to say it was on the house. I’m sure your boyfriend doesn’t―”

“I’m not her boyfriend!” Tony barked. “She’s mean to me!”

“It’s true,” Pepper admitted. “But only because if I wasn’t, his big head would just carry him away. All that hot air in it, you know.”

Tony muttered something very uncharitable under his breath and began reorganizing his vegetables on the table.

May looked back and forth between them for a moment before finally deciding, “I’ve heard of weirder friendships.”

“That’s horrifying,” Pepper said cheerfully, and began shoving the jar at her again. “Here. Peter wanted some, didn’t he?”

“Oh, uh, yes. Thank you,” May said, tucking her hair behind one ear.

Pepper smiled at her, besotted.

Tony watched them smile at each other for a few minutes before throwing his hands up and turning away from them, disgusted.

.-.-.-.

“You know that humans age faster than us, right?” Tony asked a few months later, picking a truly obscene amount of tomatoes off of one plant.

Pepper rolled her eyes, shooing some beetles off the eggplants. “I know that.” When one beetle refused to be shooed, she narrowed her eyes at it. It promptly curled up and died. She tossed it away. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I’m pretty sure at the rate you’re going that May will die before you ask her out,” Tony answered.

Pepper decided that she was not sorry about making Tony’s eyes cross and she was definitely not sorry that he’d been banned from meeting with the Rogers Court.

.-.-.-.

“May,” Tony said when she came over to peruse his butternut squash. “This is literally killing me. Do you like Pepper?”

May sputtered and blushed. “Wh―How did―Whe―I-!”

“She does,” Peter chirped. “She says that Ms. Pepper has a nice butt.”

May squawked. “Peter!”

Peter scowled petulantly. “Well you do.”

“Pepper thinks the way you push your glasses up when they start to slip down is cute and she likes the way you snort when you laugh really hard,” Tony informed her. “Please ask her out and put me out of my misery. If I have to listen to her sigh over you one more time I will literally die. I have decided this.”

“Aunt May!” Peter cried, grabbing her arm. “We can’t let Mr. Tony die! He has the good honey!”

May gaped at him, then scowled. “Peter! That’s a horrible reason to not want Tony to die!”

“...But it’s good honey,” Peter mumbled.

“It’s true. My honey is excellent,” Tony agreed.

May suddenly understood why Pepper sniped at Tony so much; he really was too smug. “Where is Pepper, anyway?” she asked, frowning.

“Oh!” Pepper called out in surprise as she turned down the aisle Tony’s stall was on. “You guys are early! Uh,” she added when she noticed Peter and Tony suddenly looking anywhere but at her or May. “...Did I interrupt something?”

“No,” May said hastily. “Are those lilies?”

“Huh?” Pepper asked, and then remembered she’d bought the bouquet of lilies she was holding specifically for May. She shoved them at her. “Yeah. Here.”

“Thanks,” May said, taking them delicately, and smiled down at them.

Tony watched May and Pepper smile at each other besottedly and seriously considered flipping his table.

May looked down at the flowers again before looking back up at Pepper, remembering all the little gifts she’d been given―the honey, these flowers, a carton of berries at the end of the season, a delicate wall hanging for Peter to help guard against nightmares. “Hey, do you want to grab dinner sometime?”

“What?” Pepper asked, surprised. Then she squeaked out a shrill, “Yes!”

May heard Tony mumble a soft ‘finally oh my frog’ but ignored it in favor of smiling up at Pepper and asking, “Italian?”

“Yes,” Pepper breathed, delighted. “Tell me where and when and I’ll be there.”

Peter smiled up at her too. “This is really great! Aunt May talks about how pretty and nice you are all the time!”

“She does?” Pepper asked, both happy and embarrassed that May apparently said all these good things about her.

“Yeah! She’s wanted to ask you out forever but hasn’t because she was sure you were out of her league!”

“What a coincidence!” Tony exclaimed, shooting Pepper a smug look. “So did Pepper!”

“Shut up or I’ll eat all your cashews,” Pepper told him immediately.

Tony scowled but turned his attention back to his vegetables.

.-.-.-.

“Don’t you think we should set Tony up with someone?” May asked, hands curled around a mug of coffee as she watched Tony stomp around his pumpkin patch. “I don’t begrudge the free babysitting, and it’s clear that he and Peter enjoy each others’ company, but… Tony looks really lonely sometimes.”

“I mean… he did have someone, kind of. Almost,” Pepper said, grimacing, as she added a drizzle of honey to her tea. “I pulled a prank and caused a misunderstanding. I’d thought… if he was so willing to drop Tony, he didn’t deserve him anyway. But then he threatened to make sure I never enjoyed a raspberry cordial again when I told him he couldn’t buy vegetables from Tony, so. Maybe I was just a little bit of a jerk.”

May turned to look at her, raising her eyebrows. “Maybe?!”

“I was a little bit of a jerk,” Pepper sighed.

May turned back to the window to watch Tony point at a pumpkin and give it a very stern talking to. “Well, I hope you fix it soon. This is really sad.”

“He’d yell at the pumpkins even if he did have a boyfriend,” Pepper mumbled.

“But he wouldn’t be alone,” May pointed out, reaching for her hand, and smiled when Pepper obediently reached back.

“I’ll figure it out,” Pepper sighed.

“Good,” May said. It was the least they could do, considering that he’d basically gotten them together, anyway.


	5. Tony Stark/Clark Kent

Masquerade AU

There was a difference between Bruce and Bruce Wayne.

Bruce was taciturn, unobtrusive. He observed and considered before making a move, whether it be in a fist fight or his turn at game night. He was shrewd and calculated. He came across as very cold and solitary, but it was just to hide the fact that he cared, a lot, and very deeply.

Bruce Wayne was the exact opposite. He was loud, and always wanted attention on him. He was reckless and stupid, sticking his foot into his mouth every other word and not caring. He blustered about so you had no choice but to look at him. He talked to everyone and immediately forgot what he’d said to them, showing just how unimportant they really were to him.

Clark had thought he’d known which persona he preferred, but was shocked to see another side to him―the side that Tony Stark brought out, equal parts Bruce and Bruce Wayne. He laughed loudly, but it was genuine. He could be goaded into recklessness, but not if it would put his friend out. He still spoke to people, but it was with Tony in mind, introducing him and keeping an eye on the conversation. It made him seem… softer, somehow.

Clark watched Bruce grab a blond man by the arm and lean in close, ears catching a truly horrifying and scathing threat. The blond man sneered, but Bruce just narrowed his eyes, and the man fled.

Well. Perhaps not too much softer.

Clark couldn’t help but make his way over to them, curious.

“Clark,” Bruce greeted, not… warmly, but not coldly either.

“Who the fuck is Clark,” Tony said, and then paused to give Clark a long once over. “Hmm. Anyway!” he added, turning back to Bruce. “How do you recognize all these people with these masks on? Do you have super powers? Can you see through masks?”

“I don’t know,” Bruce said, allowing amusement to color his tone. “How could you recognize me with _ my _ mask on?”

“We’ve known each other since we were seven, Bruce,” Tony told him snidely. “You think just because you cover your cheekbones, I wouldn’t recognize you?”

Bruce considered this.

“Also you’re the only one here that can afford real diamonds on your mask,” Tony added.

Clark was glad he’d already swallowed his sip of champagne, otherwise he would have spewed it everywhere.

“Fair,” Bruce said. “Tony, this is Clark. He’s a… work friend.”

Clark smiled nervously as Tony gave him another long onceover.

“Is he a work friend, or a _ work friend _?” Tony asked.

“...What’s the difference,” Clark asked, confused.

Bruce sighed and rolled his eyes. “He’s not a prostitute, Tony.”

“I NEVER SAID HE WAS,” Tony howled immediately, and then reached out to grab Clark’s arm, looking up at him with big, brown eyes, dewy like the calves’ eyes back home on the farm, Clark thought. “I don’t think you’re a prostitute. Although if you were that would be okay! Sex work is just as respectable as―um―”

“A journalist,” Bruce offered.

“As a journalist!” Tony exclaimed. He paused, then looked down at Clark’s arm under his hands. “A journalist.” He squeezed Clark’s arm carefully before tipping his head back to squint up at him, disbelieving. “A journalist?”

Clark froze. What was he supposed to say? No one ever actually realized how muscular he was. They didn’t typically touch him when he was just Clark. Hell, Bruce tried his best not to touch anyone in general.

“Yes,” Bruce said, coming to his rescue. His smile said ‘you owe me.’ “He works for the _ Daily Planet _.”

“Oh!” Tony said happily. “I read the _ Daily Planet _!” He sensed more than saw Bruce rolling his eyes and turned, barking, “Some of us like to keep up on the news!”

“Right. Makes sense,” Bruce said, clearly placating him.

Still, Tony’s hackles went down, and he went back to smiling up at Clark. “Would you care to dance?”

“Uh,” Clark said, beginning to sweat.

Bruce’s eyes went wide for a second before narrowing with wicked delight. “Clark loves to dance! I’m sure he’d love to dance with you, Tony!”

Tony’s eyes went big and hopeful behind his mask.

All Clark could do was helplessly offer Tony his arm again, and smile a little when Tony cheerfully took it, leading him to the dance floor. Clark gave Bruce a sharp look over his shoulder.

“I’m not sorry,” Clark heard Bruce whisper, and he mulishly decided Bruce would be after he’d trod all over Tony’s feet and broken toes.

Tony was surprisingly small in his arms.

“Wow, you really are big,” Tony said, surprised, as he looked up at him. “How come I didn’t see you before? I notice everyone at parties.”

“I… try not to be seen,” Clark offered. It wasn’t that he tried not to be seen, it was just… as Clark, people tended to look over him.

Tony, disconcertingly, did not look down at their feet once. “Oh, are you an investigative journalist? I know they try not to be seen.”

“...Yes,” Clark said after a moment. “You got me.”

“Your secret’s safe with me!” Tony chirped, looking incredibly smug for being right. It was cute. “Not that it would matter, I guess,” he added, mostly to himself. “I don’t know what you look like. But if I felt your arms I’d recognize you!”

Clark couldn’t help a laugh. “You probably shouldn’t be going up to strangers and feeling their arms.”

Tony sighed, frowning. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” He brightened up immediately. “I wouldn’t have to if you agreed to go out to dinner with me! No masks!”

“...I could just take the mask off,” Clark said.

Tony somehow managed to give him an incredibly impressive bitch-face even with half of his face covered by a mask. “It’s a masquerade ball, Clark! You’re not supposed to take your mask off!”

“Excuse me,” Clark replied, unable to help being amused. “This is my first masquerade party. I guess I didn’t realize that was part of the rules.”

“Well, to be honest, masquerade parties are real bores,” Tony admitted. “Eventually you realize who you’re talking to. And since I’m not from Gotham I don’t know a lot of people, but they still figure out who I am pretty quickly. It’s off putting. For me, at least,” he added. “I’m sure everyone else gets a kick out of it.”

“Probably,” Clark agreed.

“So?” Tony asked hopefully. “Dinner?”

Clark paused, considering, and promptly stepped on Tony’s foot. He jerked upward immediately, mortified.

“Oh,” Tony said, somehow simultaneously looking surprised and smug. “So you _ are _ a _ work friend _.” And then he used the hand on Clark’s shoulder to yank him down.

Clark’s feet hit the floor with a thump, and he was even more mortified to realize that he had been hovering in midair to keep from trampling all over the smaller man’s feet.

“It’s okay!” Tony told him cheerfully. “I know how to keep a secret! Or, well. I know how to keep other people’s secrets!”

“Tony,” Clark choked out.

Tony still had those wide, hopeful eyes. “So dinner?”

Clark stared at him, bewildered, and flatly repeated, “Dinner.”

Tony seized on this. “Great! Dinner! Pick me up at seven tomorrow!”

“What,” Clark said.

“I’ll be staying here with Bruce, so make sure you tell Alfred that you’re for me when you arrive,” Tony added.

“What,” Clark said again.

Tony beamed up at him and patted him on the arm. “Take me somewhere nice!” And then he flounced off without so much as a ‘goodbye.’

Clark could only watch him go, perplexed and, perhaps, a little intimidated.

“Bring him flowers,” he heard Bruce say over the blood pounding in his ears, and for the life of him couldn’t tell if Bruce was next to him or halfway across the room.

Tony couldn’t have been serious. Could he? And… did Tony really know he was Superman? Had he figured it out, or had Bruce told him? _ Would _ Bruce have told him? He couldn’t imagine Bruce would share his secret like that...

.-.-.-.

“Oh, he didn’t, but I figured out he was Batman and figured he’d only really be friendly with people who helped him save the world,” Tony replied casually as he fussed with the vase for the flowers Clark had brought him.

“...So you just… figured out I was Superman?” Clark asked, stunned.

“Well I mean, you’re the only one of his friends built like you are,” Tony reasoned. “And then you were hovering on the dance floor and it sort of cinched it for me.”

“Are you saying you figured out I was Superman when you felt my arm?!” Clark sputtered.

Tony tilted his head thoughtfully before shrugging. “I’m not an idiot, Clark.”

Clark was pretty sure the only reason he didn’t faint was because he was Kryptonian, but it was a near thing. He noticed Bruce hovering at the top of the stairs and couldn’t help but tilt his head towards him.

“If you hurt Tony I’ll shove a piece of kryptonite so far up your ass I could fill your teeth with it,” Bruce said.

“Anyway I made reservations so we should go,” Clark said hastily.

“Okay,” Tony said happily. “Bye, Bruce!”

“Have fun!” Bruce called back. “Or else,” he added under his breath.

Clark was sweating again. God, he hoped nothing went wrong on their date.

"Oh, by the way," Tony added, looking up at him with a smile. "You're even more handsome than I imagined."

Clark smiled at him, blushing a little. "Oh, thank you. You're very handsome, too."

"Thanks! I think we're gonna have a fun date!" Tony replied happily.

"I hope so," Clark said, and not just because he could feel Bruce staring daggers at his back.


	6. Clint/Tony

Blind Date AU

Tony had been so hopeful. Sure, he’d been nervous as hell at the same time, but… the hope had won out.

Natasha had promised him a nice night. Dinner at a place where the setting was intimate but not too romantic, maybe a walk in the park nearby if they hit it off. There was a gelato place around the block if they wanted to extend the date to dessert. She’d promised that his date would be good―great, even!

So Tony didn’t understand why he’d been waiting for an hour for his date.

He twisted his napkin on his lap again, frowning. Maybe whoever Natasha had chosen for him hadn’t been as excited for the date as he had been. Or… or maybe they’d seen him and immediately turned on their heel and left. Tony swallowed thickly. He didn’t know which one was worse. He’d… he’d really been hopeful, if not for a connection, then at least a good date.

“More breadsticks, sir?” a waiter asked, trying and failing not to give him sad eyes.

“I, um. No,” Tony finally decided, letting his hands fall lax in his lap. “Just the check.”

The waiter bit his lip, then softly said, “Sir, since it’s just the one glass, I’m giving you the wine on the house.”

“Do I look that bad?” Tony asked, trying to joke. Even to his own ears, his tone missed joviality by a mile.

The waiter said nothing, just gave him a squeeze on the shoulder.

“Thanks,” Tony said after swallowing the lump in his throat. “I really appreciate it.”

“Have a good night, sir,” the waiter told him gently before going over to a different table.

Tony left a fifty on the table for a tip and stood, fiddling with the sleeves of his jacket. He knew, logically, that only a few people were looking at him, and it was probably because of who he was. But the sting of rejection made it feel like everyone’s eyes were on him, pitying him, wondering what was wrong with him that his date had ditched him.

He didn’t understand. Natasha had promised him such a good time, and she’d never been wrong before. Even if he didn’t end up with a new romantic partner, he at least ended up with a new friend. He’d never been stood up by a blind date Natasha had arranged before. He’d thought, perhaps foolishly, that Natasha would never have allowed it. He wondered if he should tell her he’d been stood up or if he should just say the date was a failure. He didn’t want her to feel bad for choosing someone who stood him up, after all.

He was just walking past the host’s desk when he heard someone say, “Please, I’m so late, I need to get in―”

“Sir,” the hostess told him primly, trying to pick up her phone, but the man wouldn’t let her. “What you need is a hospital.”

Tony turned, frowning, and then nearly staggered backward in surprise, agreeing completely with the hostess with one glance.

The man was wearing a rumpled jacket and slacks, patchy with grime and dirt. There was a steady stream of blood dripping down the side of his face, and he was cradling his arm to his chest gingerly. There was the world’s saddest bouquet resting on his cradled arm, a bundle of light pink roses with several broken stems and missing petals.

“Sir, please let me call an ambulance for you,” the hostess said firmly.

“Can you―please, can’t I just see if he’s still here?” the man said mournfully. “I don’t want him to think I stood him up. Then you can call an ambulance. I promise.”

“Sir,” the hostess said, giving him a hard stare.

Tony couldn’t help but approach him, feeling shaky and nervous. He looked even worse up close. Still, he couldn’t help but ask, “Clint? Clint Barton?” The man turned sharply and nearly fell over, but Tony lunged forward to grab him, careful not to jostle his cradled arm.

“Ow,” the man yelped anyway, face crumpling.

“Sorry,” Tony said, frowning. He looked at the hostess and nodded at the phone, which she scooped up immediately.

“It’s okay, everything hurts, mostly,” the man replied sadly. He looked up at him and frowned, then gasped softly. “Tony? Tony! You’re still here!” He held up the bouquet and thrust it at him weakly. “These are for you. Oh,” he added sadly when he realized how bad they looked.

Tony snatched them anyway. “What happened to you?”

“Would you believe I got hit by a car?” Clint asked hopefully.

Tony stared at him. “Of course I would. But the fact that you said that makes it clear that it wasn’t what happened.”

Clint sighed, sagging a little. “I got jumped.”

Tony’s mouth fell open. “What?!”

“This guy abandoned his dog after it lost a fight, and I took it in and nursed it back to health, and now that it’s okay again the guy wanted it back. He said I stole his dog and got his friends to help him beat me up to try and get it back,” he explained, ducking his head.

“Is the dog okay?” Tony asked.

Clint seemed to puff up three sizes in pride. “Yeah, Lucky’s fine! I wasn’t gonna let ‘em take him and put him back in a dog fighting ring! He’s my buddy!”

“Well,” Tony said, ducking his head shyly. “If there’s a good reason to be stood up, I suppose this is one of them.”

“I didn’t want to stand you up,” Clint said sadly. “I wanted so badly to be here. Natasha said you needed a nice night and I wanted to give it to you. She even lent me the money for the flowers,” he added, motioning at the bouquet. “I… I wanted to be here.”

Tony reached out to touch his arm. “It’s okay. You’re here. You made it. You’re only a little late.”

Clint tried for a smile, but it was cut off by a groan as he curled his uninjured arm around his stomach. “_Fuck_.”

“Clint!” Tony gasped, dropping the flowers to grab him and keep him from falling again. He looked at the hostess. “Where’s that ambulance?!”

“It should be here any minute,” she answered quickly, phone still to her ear.

“I don’t need an ambulance, I just,” Clint began, and then promptly passed out.

“Fuck!” Tony choked out at the sudden dead-weight, and fell to the floor with him

.-.-.-.

“Oh my God, that was real?” Clint groaned when he regained consciousness to find Tony sat in a chair beside him, busted bouquet on his lap.

“It was sweet,” Tony said.

Clint tried to lift his left hand to cover his face, found his arm wrapped in a thick cast, and lifted his right hand instead. “Oh fuck. Oh God. I showed up to a date bruised and bleeding. Oh God I showed up to a date with a broken arm.”

“You have a concussion, too,” Tony said helpfully.

“Oh my God,” Clint whispered, mortified.

Tony smiled down at his bouquet, shy again. “It was nice, knowing you hadn’t stood me up.”

Clint moved his fingers just slightly to peek at him from between them. “God. You really are as cute as Natasha said.”

Tony sputtered, blushing a little. “C-cute!? I’m not cute!”

Clint let his hand fall from his face. “Oh my God. You’re fucking adorable. You’re here after I passed out and you kept my shitty flowers and you’re just happy I didn’t stand you up.”

“I-! Well-! You-!” Tony sputtered again. “Well-! You got in a fight to protect a dog! What else could I do?!”

“Lucky only has three legs and one eye,” Clint told him seriously.

“Oh,” Tony breathed, covering his mouth. There might have been tears in his eyes.

Clint grinned at him. “If you help me get out of here, I’ll take you to meet him.”

Tony began to stand.

A hand clamped down on his shoulder and pressed him back down into his seat. “You will do no such thing,” Natasha hissed.

“I will do no such thing,” Tony repeated, voice wobbling.

“Boo,” Clint complained, blowing a raspberry at her.

Natasha opened her mouth to say something probably scathing, but then she looked down at the battered bouquet across Tony’s lap, and her face softened. She relaxed her grip on Tony’s shoulder from a death hold to a comforting squeeze. “I hear you both had pretty harrowing evenings. Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault I’m a dumbass,” Clint offered.

“Well, no, but I should have warned Tony that you were,” Natasha replied, shrugging.

Tony frowned up at her. “Hey, he had no control over getting jumped over his dog!”

“Aw, you’re defending him already,” Natasha teased. “Just wait until you find out he’s actually a dumbass.”

“It’s true, I’m a dumbass,” Clint offered, and waved his cast about as proof.

Tony frowned at him as well. “You’re not dumb.”

“Oh, I am,” Clint assured him.

Tony began to look concerned.

“Don’t worry,” Natasha assured him. “I’m already planning your next date.”

“...That’s not what I’m worried about,” Tony told her.

“I’m thinking a walk in Central Park,” she continued, ignoring him.

Tony stared at her, aghast.

Clint smiled at him. “As a dumbass, I get her special treatment.”

“Oh,” Tony said. He looked back down at the bouquet on his lap, smoothing his hand over the paper as he smiled at it.

“Fuck,” Clint whispered, clutching his chest. He got the feeling he wouldn’t want just friendship with him.

He watched Tony nod along as Natasha continued to detail their next date after the miserable failure that this one had been. Well. There were probably worse people to fall in love with.


	7. Thor/Tony

Arranged Marriage AU

Thor didn’t want to say that he was… upset. He was unhappy, sure, and a little disappointed, but he’d sort of figured that his marriage would always have been political rather than passionate. He’d just… hoped to marry into a clan that had a little more to offer, maybe.

Perhaps he was spoiled. He’d grown up with a shapeshifter for a brother, and his mother had some of the most powerful magic in their lands. To have his marriage be to a smaller clan, with no real magic to their reputation beyond some simple light tricks, it was… humbling, in a disappointing way. He’d thought he’d be betrothed to an equally powerful clan. The Stark clan, it… Well, it was powerful, but small, both in population and territory.

He supposed he could see the merit to the marriage, if he really stopped to think about it. While the Stark clan’s territory was small and their people few, they ruled what territory they did have implicitly. No one encroached on their lands, and they did not encroach on anyone else’s. Perhaps they could afford that. They controlled one of the largest ports on this side of the continent, the city surrounding it a mecca of trade for any other country. As small as they were, they truly made up for it with power.

Still… all they could do with magic was tricks with _ lights_.

Thor sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. Anthony was a… fine bride. (He detested being called one, but he recognized their language was different, and so he only had one big tantrum about it before letting it go. Thor supposed he could at least respect that, especially since he’d had his tantrum in the privacy of his own room once he’d thought he was alone, and been properly mortified when he saw a few chambermaids watching him.) He was young, and clever, and… well, he was beautiful. As disappointed as he was, Thor had eyes, and Anthony had a pair of breeches that―hmm. Well. In any case, he could not find Anthony lacking in any way except for his magic skills, and perhaps his attitude, sometimes. It wasn’t like they were a poor match, when he looked at it logically.

Emotionally, however, he just remembered the way Anthony had backed away from him on their wedding night, angry and embarrassed in turns, before he’d finally spat, “Don’t touch me.” He remembered, and it hurt. He wouldn’t have done anything to hurt Anthony, and he was offended (and hurt) that Anthony thought so low of him.

Now they were here, three months into a loveless marriage, the only touch they’d shared the hand-fasting and kiss of their nuptials, stuck in a tent together on their way back to Anthony’s home territory so Thor could take proper stock of what now constituted as ‘his’ territory. It had been raining for days, and the wagons spent more time stuck in the mud than actually moving, so they’d had to set up camp. Anthony hadn’t said much more to him than ‘pass the butter, please’ at meals and had an even harder time looking at him, and Thor wished the rain would run out before his patience did, especially in this cramped space.

It didn’t.

.-.-.-.

“What is your problem?!” Thor shouted the next day at breakfast, when Anthony had forgone asking him to pass the butter to instead reach across and take it.

Anthony jerked back as if he’d physically struck him, eyes wide in surprise. “Wh-? I don’t have a problem.”

“Yes you do,” Thor hissed. He couldn’t help but stand up and loom over him when it looked like Anthony might argue. “You won’t talk to me, won’t even look at me if you don’t have to. I can count the conversations we’ve had since we married on one hand! You act as though I’ll maul you if you even look at me a split second too long, as if I’m some sort of beast that would tear you apart! I have never struck anyone outside of a combat situation if I haven’t been struck first! And yet you always lean away from me as if expecting me to swat at you like a pesky dog! What have I done to make you think that that’s the sort of man I am?!”

“The sort of man you are?” Anthony repeated dumbly, as if stunned. Then there was a fire in his eyes, and he stood as well, glaring up at him. “The sort of man you are is a man who does nothing to hide his disgust when presented with his betrothed.”

Thor’s mouth clicked shut, stunned. The accusation was so far afield, he’d never have come up with a quick rebuttal anyway, though. Finally, he managed a soft, “What?”

“Don’t think I didn’t see it,” Anthony hissed, cheeks flushing, eyes going glassy with tears that he valiantly ignored. “I knew it from the moment you saw me. You were disgusted. Disappointed that you weren’t marrying into a more magically-inclined family. Upset that you were stuck with someone you felt couldn’t measure up to you. And maybe we don’t. Maybe we _ are _ less than you. But I would never turn my nose up at you if the situations were reversed, if our parents decided _ you _ would be _ my _ bride and you had to travel alone to your new holdings, anxious and afraid because everything you’ve ever known is hundreds of miles behind you―”

“Anthony,” Thor breathed, stunned, as tears began to roll down Anthony’s cheeks.

“Maybe I don’t know any magic of great use,” Anthony continued, breath hitching. “Maybe I don’t! And maybe I’ll never be as big or as muscular as you! But I’m clever with my hands and―and I’ve studied the intricacies of court since I could walk! I’m not the worst person they could have chosen for you! I’m not!”

“I know you’re not, Anthony,” Thor said gently, reaching out for him.

“No!” Anthony exclaimed, ducking his hands and wiping at his eyes frantically. “You don’t! You think―you think I’m weak, and useless, and stupid, and―You don’t! You looked at me like I was lower than―lower than the dirt beneath your feet, and―”

“Anthony,” Thor repeated, continuing to reach out to him.

“You think I’d be of no use to you, but I would-! I would!” Tony exclaimed, sobbing. “I want to help! I―But you looked at me like I’d be a hindrance instead-! I’ve been learning―I had to learn―”

“What did you have to learn, Anthony?” Thor asked softly, finally taking him into his arms, Anthony’s squirming and pushing feeling as weak as a kitten batting at him.

Tony shoved at his chest helplessly, then fell against it with another sob. “I-! I worked so hard to learn your language,” he whispered, burying his face in Thor’s chest. “Your language is―it’s so very hard. It’s so much different from mine. But I―No one looked impressed, or―or even _ surprised_. As if I should have known it all along. But I haven’t. I studied so long to be able to speak it when I learned we were to marry―and then your parents sent that group of soldiers to help escort me to you, and I―I practiced with them so much, and they laughed at me whenever I got something wrong, but I was fluent by the time we arrived, and―and you wouldn’t have guessed that it was a language I wasn’t born into if you didn’t know. But none of you cared.”

He sobbed, banging on Thor’s chest with his fists helplessly. “I’ve worked so hard to be who you want and it’s not enough! You didn’t care that I’d learned your language, or―or that I studied how you made your weapons or―or that I traveled all this way, away from my family, my friends, away from everything I’ve ever known-! You just looked at me and saw someone you didn’t want! You don’t care about me!”

“Anthony,” Thor murmured, holding him tight as he cried, one hand curled gently but firmly around the back of his head while the other stroked up and down his back in slow, smooth strokes, as if gentling a wild, injured animal. Perhaps he was, in a way. “Oh, Anthony. No. _ No_. I’m sorry if it looked like that to you. I’m so sorry.”

“I thought we could learn to love each other over time,” Anthony whimpered. “Or at least become friends. But you looked so unhappy at the sight of me-!”

“I was,” Thor admitted, and hushed Anthony when his sobs resurged in earnest. “I was. But it was misplaced anger, Anthony. My parents had promised some modicum of respect for my opinions, and in the end they disregarded that promise. I was angry and upset that I’d had no say in my own future, even if it was just a token opinion. And I will admit I took it out on you, that I was disappointed, but I was not disappointed in you, not really. I was disappointed in what could have been that I would never know. And for that… for that, I am truly sorry.”

“Thor,” Anthony sobbed, burying his face in his chest.

Thor hushed him gently, continuing his gentle, soft strokes up and down his back. “Shhh, Anthony. You’ve been alone for such a long time. But I promise that I’m here now. I’ll endeavor to try as hard as you did. Let’s start fresh, Anthony. Please let me make it up to you.”

“Thor,” Anthony whispered, shaking.

Thor gently eased his head back, gazing down at him. “Look at me, darling.”

Anthony’s eyes fluttered open slowly, and for all that they were red and swollen, they also looked like molten honey, warm and soft and sweet. “Thor,” he whispered again, and sniffed.

He was still trembling in his arms, but Thor decided that was to be expected. A body shouldn’t ever be made to hold as much hurt in it as Anthony’s had. He wanted to dive in, soothe the pain, make him forget everything that had happened to him, but he remembered their first night together, the bitterness (and, perhaps, fear) in the smaller man’s eyes. “May I kiss you, Anthony?” he asked softly. “Just once?”

Anthony stared up at him, eyes wide, still shaking, but eventually he nodded, looking shy, nervous. So sweet, and so brave, fearing him but allowing him what he asked all the same.

Thor dipped his head, covering Anthony’s mouth with his own. He felt more than heard the soft mew of surprise that escaped Anthony’s lips. He pressed in a little more, then retreated, lips parting with a soft, wet sound.

Anthony stared up at him, shocked, looking simultaneously hollowed out and filled to the brim with emotion. Then he whimpered a broken, desperate ‘Thor’ and yanked him back down for more kisses, this time desperate and hungry, taking and taking. Thor gave back as good as he got, clutching Anthony against him, feeling his body heave and tremble anew, walking him backward until their legs knocked into the edge of Thor’s cot, pressing him down backward against the thin mattress, the swaths of fabric across it.

“Thor,” Anthony gasped, clinging to him. “Thor-!”

“Yes,” Thor gasped back, dropping his mouth to nip and suck at his neck. “Yes, Anthony, oh―”

Anthony grabbed at his hair, his shoulders, throwing his head back with soft cry as Thor’s beard dragged over the sensitive skin of his throat. “Oh, oh, Thor, please―”

“Anything you want, Anthony,” Thor promised. “Anything you desire, Anthony, and it’s yours.”

“Oh,” Anthony breathed, overwhelmed, and then pressed his warm face against Thor’s neck, embarrassed. “Thor, Thor, please, I―Please―”

Thor hooked a finger under Anthony’s jaw and used it to gently tip his head back to meet his eyes again. Anthony looked so good like this, flushed, pupils blown wide, lips red and wet and swollen. “I’ll give you anything you desire, Anthony,” he repeated softly.

“Anything?” Anthony asked. When Thor nodded, he let out a soft sigh, shoulders relaxing, as if he’d been holding his breath ever since their engagement had been announced. “Everything, Thor. I want everything.”

And, well. Thor had promised him anything. And with Anthony looking up at him like that, raw and open and still a little hurt, nothing could have kept him from keeping it.

.-.-.-.

Thor was grateful for the rain, he decided.


	8. Carol Danvers/James Rhodes

Podcast AU

_ “―and that was when Tony learned that spinach was not collard greens,” _ Jim said.

_ “It’s not my fault my mom is Italian and my butler is English. You didn’t know what clotted cream was,” _ Tony replied snidely.

_ “Knew it was gross!” _ Jim said cheerfully. _“Anyway, collard greens are better with bacon. Remember that always. Don’t forget that Mama’s recipe for collard greens is up on our Patreon, along with Jarvis’s recipe for clotted cream. Tune in next time for _ ** _Get That Out of Your Mouth_**_!” _

Carol sighed, laying her arm over her eyes. “Mariaaaaa,” she whined.

“I’m not making you either of those things,” Maria said immediately, not looking up from her crossword puzzle. “Also? You can’t cook. Why do you even listen to this weird-ass podcast?”

“I’m compiling a book of recipes for my significant other to make for me after I come home from a long day of work,” Carol replied.

“Mom said it’s because you think Jim’s voice is dreamy,” Monica said helpfully, taking the welcome excuse to avoid working on her essay.

Carol jerked upward, scowling at Maria. “I do _ not _ think his voice is dreamy!”

Maria finally lifted her head, decidedly unimpressed. “Carol. You said if you met Jim in real life, he could make you a cream pie any day.”

Carol gasped, wounded. “Maria! I told you that in confidence!”

“You told the whole bar in confidence, Carol,” Maria deadpanned. “We were on our second pitcher of beer.”

“What does that mean, by the way?” Monica asked innocently. “I was telling my teacher that story and she turned bright red!”

“MONICA NO,” Maria and Carol bellowed.

Carol was almost certain Maria would smother her in her sleep for this. She really did need to consider getting her own place now that she’d had a steady job for a while, if only to flee from the possibility of being strangled for using euphemisms in front of Monica.

.-.-.-.

_ “So a lot of people, when they make fried apples, they add the seasoning last. A sprinkle just before serving,” _ Jim was saying over the sizzle of hot butter in a skillet. _“These people are wrong.” _

Carol sighed and leaned her chin on her hand, closing her eyes. She imagined being in the kitchen with Jim, watching him cook. She bet it smelled divine.

_ “Some people use oil to cook them, too, but I like using butter. It gives the dish a richer flavor,” _ Jim continued.

_ “Rhodey’s family usually uses McIntosh apples,” _ Tony cut in. _ “But I like to use Granny Smith. Any tart apple will do, though! Rhodey and I decided to split the difference and used half and half.” _

Carol scowled a little and wondered if Tony would horn in on their dates in real life. She wished Jim would do more solo shows. Then she immediately felt bad; part of the reason she’d gotten into the show was the banter, specifically the first one where they’d been talking about the shitty things they’d eaten as college students and Tony had said ‘I’m eating a ramen burrito right now! Tastes like freshman year!’ and Jim had shouted the tagline of the show as he’d wrestled it away from him, yelling, “Get that out of your mouth!”

Carol could admit that while Jim’s voice would be very soothing on her ears, part of the enjoyment she got out of it was Jim and Tony yelling at each other. Kind of felt like when she’d been rooming with Maria during boot camp.

_ “The typical ratio for cinnamon and sugar is four parts sugar to one part cinnamon,” _ Jim explained. _“That’s your all-purpose cinnamon and sugar mixture. If you’re like me, and prefer a little more cinnamon, a three-to-one ratio is better. Tony’s white and doesn’t appreciate flavor so I’m using the all-purpose mixture.” _

_ “You say this and yet one time I made something with capers and you about died,” _ Tony complained. _ “Who doesn’t like capers?” _

_ “If I wanted to eat vinegar-flavored berries―Actually fuck that, capers are shit.” _

_ “Platypus!” _ Tony cried, as if he’d just been mortally offended.

Carol laughed a little. She’d never had capers before, but she’d take Jim’s word for it. Maria hadn’t cooked one of their recipes that she hadn’t agreed with him on yet.

_ “Anyway, you get your apples in your skillet with your melted butter and pour your cinnamon and sugar over them. Cook them until they're soft, about ten minutes. Admittedly, my way is a bit more tedious, because I have to keep an eye on it to make sure the sugar doesn’t burn. But it’s honestly worth it to me to make sure it’s got that nice, warm cinnamon flavor throughout instead of just on top.” _

_ “You can serve these apples on top of cooked pie dough, some granola, or even on top of ice cream,” _ Tony added. _ “I prefer on top of granola so it’s sort of like an apple crisp.” _

_ “I like it on ice cream,” _ Jim agreed. _ “And you can find a recipe to turn the butter leftover in the pan into a delicious caramel to go over the top of everything on our Patreon, along with a video of Tony having a meltdown over the Cinnamon Challenge. Tony is very passionate about it.” _

_ “YOU COULD GET PNEUMONIA,” _ Tony howled.

_ “Shit,” _ Jim mumbled, and then called over Tony’s noise, _ “In any case, thank you for tuning in this week, and see you next week on _ ** _Get That Out of Your Mouth_**_!” _

Carol sighed again. God, that sounded good. Jim had sounded good, too. She picked up her phone and scrolled through the podcasts. She’d listened to all of them at least once, some of them a few times. It was a shame she could barely cook. She wished she could leave a review telling Jim that she’d made something, that it had tasted delicious and it was all because of him.

But she could barely make Kraft Macaroni and Cheese on a good day, so all she could leave were thirst-reviews about how, once again, Jim had sounded so sexy. She wasn’t worried about it though. GTOOYM had surged to popularity shortly after it had been exposed that Tony was Tony Stark. It was easy for her reviews to get lost in the shuffle of people begging for shout-outs or accusing him of using his fame for his own gain, which was honestly laughable―you could hear the difference in his voice immediately before and immediately after the information had been leaked.

Tony was still happy enough in the podcasts, of course. He bantered with Jim and all. But there was a marked lack of self-consciousness in the previous podcasts on both their parts, as if the podcast had been stolen from them, in a way.

_ I miss the episodes from before Tony was outed, _ Carol couldn’t keep herself from typing. _ You both sounded so carefree and happy. Just two guys ribbing each other as you cooked. I still enjoy your podcasts, but I really miss the way you guys would joke around so freely. I’m sorry that someone took that away from you guys. And to be honest, I’m kind of mad they took it away from me, too. _ She paused, staring at her review, before eventually adding five stars. She always gave it five stars when she reviewed, but this time it was special.

Carol looked at her phone a little longer, but her break was ending. She had to get back to work. She’d listen to the podcast again later; this, at least, was a recipe that she could probably handle.

.-.-.-.

Carol had no idea what a McIntosh apple was.

She sighed, staring at the rows and rows of apples. She’d really wanted to use Jim’s recipe, but the only apple she knew was tart and that she’d recognized were the Granny Smith. She supposed it didn’t matter. There was a gallon of vanilla ice cream waiting at home that Monica had been begging to get into for a week, and it wasn’t like Jim and Tony hadn’t used both anyway. It’s not like Monica would notice.

She was just reaching out for a Granny Smith when someone said, “You should get the McIntosh, if you’re baking.”

Carol froze, hand halfway out to the shelf. She recognized that voice. She had dreams about that voice. She’d planned to _ marry _ that voice.

“I mean, Granny Smith are okay,” Jim added, smiling a little. “But McIntosh are better.”

Carol stared at him, shocked silent.

Jim continued smiling at her for a few seconds, then frowned in concern. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know what a McIntosh looks like,” Carol squeaked.

“Oh. Easy fix,” Jim said, relaxing, and led her over to a different shelf. “Here. They’ve got red on them. And the good thing about these,” he added. “Is that they’re just sweet enough that you can eat them raw too. They go well with peanut butter.”

“Yes,” Carol agreed breathlessly. “You said that in your podcast.”

Jim looked taken aback. “My podcast? You―you listen to _ Get That Out of Your Mouth_?”

“I have reviewed every episode since I started listening to it,” Carol admitted. “Which was only recently, but I went back and listened to your older episodes, too.”

Jim looked flattered for a moment, but then his face went slack. “Oh my God. Are you Dan-The-Avenger-Vers?”

Carol opened her mouth to proudly say yes, she was, but then she remembered every single goddamn one of her thirst reviews, including the most recent one where she’d said ‘If you cooked for me I’d suck your dick every night,’ so instead of saying anything, she mostly just let out a guttural HUUUUUMMMMMMMUHGUUD. Then she promptly placed her grocery basket on the floor, turned on her heel, and literally ran from the store.

God damn it. Maria and Monica were never going to let her live this down.

She ended up not leaving the apartment except for work for a week. Luckily Maria was nice about it.

.-.-.-.

_ “And if you’re part of our Patreon, you’ll find a recipe for a pecan pie crust to put your sweet potato pie in,” _ Jim said, and Carol wished desperately that she hadn’t humiliated herself in front of him.

_ “Oh!” _ Tony added as an afterthought. _ “And Dan-The-Avenger-Vers, Rhodey’s been reading your reviews all along and―ack!” _

_ “I told you that in confidence!” _ Jim howled.

_ “―and he hopes that you’ll run into each other again at the supermarket so he can convince you to let him cook for you!” _ Tony choked. _ “Tune in next week for some more―gck!― _ ** _Get That Out of Your Mouth_**_!” _

_ “TONY I SWEAR TO GOD―” _ Jim shouted just before the podcast ended.

Carol blushed a little, staring at her phone. It seemed that she and Jim had a little more in common than she'd previously thought.

“Just what we need,” Maria deadpanned. “More drama queens in our lives.”

.-.-.-.

Carol thought she couldn’t be any more in love with Jim that she had been before the date, but then he’d made her risotto and baked alaska, and she’d really had no choice but to fall even further.

“I’m still leaving you thirst reviews,” she informed him imperiously after tackling him backward onto his couch.

“They’re the highlight of my week,” Jim replied, smirking, before drawing her down into a kiss.

Carol decided to be unbearably smug about it when she returned to the apartment she shared with Maria.

.-.-.-.

Carol decided it was payback for her hubris when she was woken up the next morning by another familiar voice, this one whispering, “Rhodey? How did it go? Did you tell her I liked her review about how she missed our old episodes? Rhodey! Did you use the oyster mushrooms I left for you? Did she like it? Do you want me to make breakfast?”

Carol popped her head up so she could see Tony over Jim’s shoulder. “Will you make that bread pudding casserole or whatever that you made a few episodes ago?”

“Jesus Christ,” Tony gasped in surprise, stumbling backward and tripping over a pair of pants. Jim’s, luckily.

“...With the raisins,” Carol added.

“Sure,” Tony squeaked, flushed bright red, and darted back out of the room.

“Go back to sleep,” Jim muttered. “It’ll take an hour for him to make it at least.”

Carol smiled smugly and curled up against his back. This had gone better than anything she’d ever imagined. _ And _ she’d gotten a personal lesson on frying apples. Maria would definitely have to stop making fun of her now.


	9. Natasha Romanov/James Rhodes

Restaurant AU

Natasha had gained ten pounds. Oh God. She’d gained ten _entire_ pounds.

“Didn’t you just retire?” Clint asked, squinting at her. “You’re not a ballerina anymore. I’ve seen you eat cereal.”

“I may have retired, but I still want to maintain my fitness,” Natasha informed him, not entirely nicely. “Also! Cereal isn’t as big a deal as the chicken fried steak I’ve had twice this week.”

Clint spewed his coffee everywhere. “Wah?!”

“Remember that night that Pepper begged me to be Tony’s date because she realized she’d double-booked herself with a senator?” Natasha asked, frowning down at her pants that were now quite snug when she buttoned them―her favorite pair of jeans didn’t even button at all now.

Clint blinked at her, bewildered. “For that new restaurant that opened, right?”

“Yeah, he was going to support a friend, because he and his sister were opening it with all of their mom’s recipes,” Natasha explained. She pulled at a belt loop sadly. She’d probably never need a belt again. “The food was really good. Soul recipes, you know? Things I couldn’t have while on my diet. It was so good.”

Clint opened his mouth, then closed it again, narrowing his eyes at her suspiciously. “You said you got that out after eating nothing but gallons of ice cream for a week after your retirement party.”

“Well, I mean. Maybe I said that,” Natasha allowed. “But! Maybe it was also a lie!”

“You don’t lie about stuff this small,” Clint pointed out, still squinting at her. “Why are you  _ really _ going to that restaurant?”

Natasha said nothing. She might have been sweating a little. She told herself that this was because she was worrying about how much it would cost to replace her wardrobe if she gained any more weight.

“Do you have a crush on Tony?” Clint asked suspiciously.

“Ew no!” Natasha blurted out, offended.

“Wow, that was fierce and immediate,” Clint said, and grabbed his phone. “I’m telling Tony.”

“No!” Natasha barked again.

“I’m telling him,” Clint repeated, pretending to type.

“I don’t have a crush on Tony I have a crush on his friend Jim!” Natasha exclaimed frantically, because Tony was sensitive and she was pretty sure if Clint sent that text to him Janet Van Dyne would break into her apartment and murder her.

Clint looked up from his phone, staring at her. “Jim.”

“He’s one of the owners of the restaurant,” Natasha explained, voice small.

Clint stared at her a bit longer. “And so you’ve eaten chicken fried steak. Twice this week. And been several other times, since you’ve gained ten pounds. Just to see him.”

“...Yes,” she answered, deciding there was no use hiding it. Her pants certainly wouldn’t, anymore.

Clint considered this for several minutes, tilting his head. Then he looked back down at his phone. “I’m telling Tony.”

“NO,” Natasha bellowed, and dove over the counter to stop him.

All Clint sent was “Nwysh leinsiswnsnns” and he still got a text back saying, “She does?!” God damn it.

.-.-.-.

“Oh my God, it’s true,” Pepper gasped.

Natasha did not look up from her oxtail stew. “Did Tony tell everyone?”

“Just me, and only because I was in the office with him and he shouted it in surprise,” Pepper replied, pulling the chair across from her out. “But I’m sure everyone else knows because what sort of weirdo would come to a restaurant alone three times a week.”

“Sometimes I bring Clint,” Natasha informed her imperiously. “And I like the food!”

“Well of course you do,” Pepper scoffed. “Mama Rhodes is an excellent cook and these are all her recipes. Tony and I go to their house every Thanksgiving and Christmas and have to wear sweatpants because we got tired of leaving with our pants unbuttoned every morning.” She did not bother looking at the menu when a waiter came over to set down a glass of water for her. “I’ll have the Hoppin’ John with a side of collard greens, please. Ask Jim if I can have the greens with blistered tomatoes. If not that’s fine.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the waiter replied, writing her order down. “Anything else for you, ma’am?” he added to Natasha.

Natasha looked at her bowl of oxtail stew, then at the plate of grits topped with shrimp and cheese, and her amaretto sour. “I’m fine,” she told him. She wanted to save room for dessert, and their slices of red velvet cake were as big as her head.

“Tony said to tell you that Rhodey’s single,” Pepper added.

Natasha spit out her bite of stew, sputtering.

“He’s been single for a long time and this restaurant is more his sister’s baby than his,” Pepper added, setting her napkin on her lap. “She just couldn’t get a loan by herself so he figured he’d work with her for the first six months to make sure it was a success.”

Natasha stared at her, trying not to seem too disappointed. “So he’s not actually a chef?”

“I mean… he is? He’s cooking?” Pepper answered, squinting at her in confusion. “Like I said, these are all his mom’s recipes. He and his sister are running the restaurant together. It’s just that his job here has an expiration date. He said he’ll help out if Jeanette’s ever shorthanded but he likes his job. At NASA.”

“Oh my God, he’s hot, smart, and he can cook,” Natasha breathed. She nodded to herself in satisfaction. “Alright. I’ll try for him in a year, then.”

“Yes, that sounds very―in a  _ year?! _ ” Pepper sputtered.

“I have gained a total of twenty-seven pounds since this restaurant opened,” Natasha declared. She looked down at her food, then looked back up at her. “Twenty-eight. I need him to see me as my normal svelte self. Yes, I know everyone thinks I needed the first ten, and yes, I know it’s expected that I gain weight after retiring from the ballet, but I am vain. I want to be beautiful.”

“But you  _ are _ beautiful,” Pepper said, bewildered.

Natasha nodded, agreeing with her. “But I am not ballerina beautiful.”

“But you’re not a ballerina anymore,” Pepper pointed out, still puzzled. “And I don’t see the problem? You have boobs now.”

Natasha sputtered on her stew again. “I―wh―I’ve  _ had _ boobs!”

“Yeah, but… not like this,” Pepper said, pointing at her chest.

Natasha stared back at her. “Are you saying I gained weight in my boobs.”

“Natasha, you had Tony take you out bra shopping because you know he’s very passionate about lingerie,” Pepper pointed out. “And it’s Tony. So I know everything. Because he can’t keep a secret to save his life.”

Natasha considered this, and wondered if there was a way to subtly threaten Tony to start learning how to keep his mouth shut. She decided there was nothing to do about that. Tony was a blabbermouth and had been as long as she’d known him. “Does Tony think I look okay like this?” she couldn’t help but ask, honestly curious.

“He likes that you look a smidgen less capable of snapping his neck with your thighs,” Pepper informed her. “Also he said you look like a femme fatale, which is patently unfair, because I’ve tried to look like one for a long time but he says I just look terrifyingly competent,” she complained. “I want men to think I’ll steer them wrong!”

“No you don’t,” Natasha said. “You need them to think you’re an idiot so you can take advantage of them in the boardroom.”

“I could do that and be a femme fatale,” Pepper muttered under her breath before reluctantly nodding in agreement. She perked up when she saw her food coming, fingers tapping along her fork and spoon impatiently.

“I blistered you some tomatoes,” Jim said. “Because you’re my friend and because Tony told me you were coming. Who’s your friend?”

“This is Natasha Romanova,” Pepper said proudly as Natasha stared into the distance and wondered if there was stew on her face. “She just retired from being a prima ballerina!”

“Prima ballerina, huh?” Jim asked, looking suitably impressed. At least she had that going for her.

Pepper gave Natasha a Look, one that she was immediately terrified of because it said ‘ask him out or perish,’ and she had no idea why Pepper wanted to look like a femme fatale when this expression was so much more terrifying. Natasha, to her shame, froze like a deer caught in a pickup truck’s high beams.

“And she’s single,” Pepper added.

“She’s a prima ballerina and she’s single?” Jim asked in surprise.

“Former,” Natasha said, and wondered what it would take to get the ground to open up and swallow her. “Former prima ballerina.”

Jim rolled his eyes a little but also nodded, conceding. “Okay.  _ Former _ prima ballerina. And you don’t have a boyfriend already?”

“Rehearsals were… long,” Natasha offered, which was true but didn’t really encompass the long hours of hard work she put in, the weight training and running, the strict diets for optimal energy while bouncing around a stage. People could joke about how soft ballerinas were all they liked; she knew how hard it was to be one firsthand.

“Well I hope it wouldn’t be presumptuous of me to say that I’m glad you retired, because now you have time to date,” Jim said, smiling. “And maybe you’d like to go out on a date with me.”

Jim’s smile was small but sincere. It was like looking at the soft glow of the sun through water, warm and gentle without being too bright. Natasha was pretty sure if she hadn’t already been halfway in love with him, she would be just for being on the receiving end of his smile.

“...Or not?” Jim said after a few more minutes, shuffling awkwardly.

Pepper kicked Natasha under the table, glaring at her.

“YEAH,” Natasha shouted, and then froze again, mortified.

“God this is worse than the time Cynthia Brown winked at Tony in college,” Jim said, looking amused again instead of concerned. “Please don’t tell Tony.”

“I attempt to tell him nothing at all about my love life ever,” Natasha said.

Jim nodded. “Good for you. How’s that working?”

“It’s not,” Natasha admitted.

Jim nodded again. “Sounds like Tony. He is the nosiest little busybody! Worse than my mom for sure. It’s adorable though. Mostly,” he decided. He smiled at her again. “So, dinner and a movie, maybe? Just so you know, we don’t have to eat here.”

“But I love eating here,” Natasha told him seriously. “I’ve gained so much weight eating here. Your food is so good.”

Jim smiled wider, flattered. “Well, we could always stay in and I could make you… something special.”

Natasha stared back at him, smitten. “I would like that.”

“I’m telling Tony,” Pepper said, pulling out her phone. “He’ll simultaneously never believe this and be angry he missed it.”

“No!” Natasha and Jim barked at the same time.

Pepper lifted her head to give them a truly scathing glare.

“Okay but don’t tell him that I froze like an idiot,” Natasha said.

“Or that I was the least suave I have ever been,” Jim said hurriedly.

Pepper did not stop glaring at them even as she typed away, which told them that she would not be acquiescing to either request.

“Fuck,” Jim said softly, and Natasha reluctantly had to agree.

.-.-.-.

Tony texted Natasha to tell her that she better finally invest in some decent sweatpants for Thanksgiving dinner with the Rhodes family.

‘It’s really nice that you think I’ll last that long considering Jim and I have only had one date,’ she texted back.

Tony sent back a very unimpressed photo. Natasha laughed and saved it to her lock screen.

.-.-.-.

She made it to Thanksgiving. Jim bought her a pair of sweatpants for the occasion.

Natasha had the joy of watching Roberta Rhodes (“Call me Mama Rhodes, dear, all of Jimmy’s friends do!”) smack Jim with a wooden spoon because sweatpants weren’t a romantic gift and she had raised him better than that.

“I thought the ring might be too early,” Jim deadpanned, and Natasha laughed even as her heart flipped over in her chest. There was plenty of time for that, though. And plenty of sweet potato pie and cornbread stuffing until then, too.


	10. Sam/Tony

Fairy Tale AU

Sam had been chasing the prettiest red cardinal he’d ever seen for a long time. He was a falcon; it should have been quite easy to catch him. And yet his cardinal always seemed to dart out of his way and flee from him. Sam had tried to tell him that he only wanted to preen him, maybe dive for a stick for him a few times, but his cardinal just sang his jaunty little tune at him before disappearing.

But he’d finally tracked him down this time; he’d waited until dusk and followed at a distance, and made sure to stick close to the trees so he could land and hide if and when his cardinal turned to survey his surroundings for predators. Maybe, if he showed he was clever by finding his cardinal’s nest, his cardinal would be impressed. Sam watched him finally settle in an empty glen and landed in a tree, shifting on his feet nervously, wondering when he should reveal himself.

And then he let out a startled screech as the sunset and his cardinal turned into a human wearing fine red clothes with gold stitching, falling from the branch in shock.

“Oh,” his cardinal(?) said, frowning, and approached him.

Sam flapped himself to his feet and took to the air, climbing high into the tree and then landing so he could turn a stunned, suspicious gaze on him.

“Oh,” his cardinal(?) said again, looking sad. “I―That is―I’m sorry,” he finally said, shoulders sagging. “I was trying to keep from leading you on. I’m so sorry, pretty falcon.”

Sam shifted so he was half-hidden behind the tree, narrowing his visible eye at him.

His cardinal(?) looked down at his feet before looking back up at him. “I hope you can find someone truly worthy of your time and effort, pretty falcon. You wouldn’t want a cursed mate, anyway.” He reached out to touch the tree, then seemed to think better of it, drawing his fists down to his sides. “I’m sorry, pretty falcon,” he added one last time, then turned and walked away.

Sam watched him go, stunned. A cursed mate? His cardinal was cursed? Who went around cursing birds?!

.-.-.-.

“I’m pretty sure he’s a human that was cursed to be a bird,” Natasha, a very wise and very clever owl, said. “People don’t go around cursing birds. They just lock us up.”

“No, I’m pretty sure he’s a cardinal cursed to turn into a human. He’s very good at being a cardinal. I’ve seen a human cursed to be a raven and he was a shit raven,” Sam reasoned. “But most curses involve touching lips together to break them. How do I break his curse when I don’t have lips?”

“I’m pretty sure this is going to end horribly for you,” Natasha decided. “But I’m a sucker for a love story and you’ve been chasing this cardinal for months. I can send you to a witch who might know how to help you, but she doesn’t do anything for free.”

“I can give her a rabbit,” Sam said, chest puffing out proudly.

Natasha twisted her head this way and that, considering, before replying, “I guess humans like those.”

.-.-.-.

Sam did not know why the witch started laughing as soon as she’d seen him on her front step, rabbit sitting dead beneath him. He was in quite a hurry and he’d always thought witches were polite. It was not polite to laugh at him. “I need help breaking a curse. I’ve brought this rabbit as payment because I was told you don’t do anything for free.”

The witch continued laughing, tears running down her cheeks.

“I said I need help breaking a curse!” Sam screeched, impatient. 

“Who would curse a bird?” the witch laughed, wiping a tear from her eye.

“If you’re not going to take me seriously, I’ll go find another witch who will!” Sam snapped.

The witch giggled, visibly trying to pull herself together. “No, no,” she said hurriedly, and then swallowed down another laugh. “I’ll help you. Please come inside. I’ll take that,” she added when he tried to limp along with the rabbit.

Sam huffed at her and flew up onto a perch by the window. It was a nice perch. Smelled like a raven. But that was normal, probably. A lot of ravens hung around witches these days.

“So,” the witch said, placing the rabbit on the table. “What is this curse you speak of?”

“There’s this cardinal I’ve been chasing,” Sam explained, glad for her straight-to-business attitude, laughter notwithstanding. “He’s very red and very pretty. He sings like a nightingale and he has a nice beak. I like him very much and he has been cursed to change into a human at night.”

The witch made a noise like she would really like to laugh again, but she didn’t, luckily. “And you know for sure that he’s a bird cursed to be a human?”

“Well of course,” Sam scoffed. “Who would want to be a human? Present company excluded, of course,” he added thoughtfully. “I hear witches are the better species of humans. Sort of like how I’m better than hawks.”

The witch made a strange sound, sort of like a cat before it regurgitated a hairball. She turned to hide her face for a moment, then turned back to him. “I don’t go around breaking curses, you know. Step on too many other witches’ toes that way.”

“Just eat them if they start shit then?” Sam offered, puzzled. Humans really were pretty weird.

The witch made another strange sound. “If I won’t break the curse, how do you expect me to help?”

“Oh, I need lips,” Sam replied. “Curses end when people touch them together don’t they? I’d do it now but I have a beak.”

The witch stared at him, looking partly bewildered but mostly delighted. “So let me get this straight,” she said gleefully. “You want me to change you into a human, so that you can find your cardinal in his human form, upon which you will use your human lips to kiss him and break his curse?”

“Temporarily human,” Sam corrected. “After all, it would be asinine for my cardinal to stay a cardinal and I’m stuck with fingers. Fingers are weird, by the way,” he added. “Get wings like a normal person.”

“Okay,” the witch said, amused. “I guess I can do that.”

“Will the rabbit be enough?” Sam asked, concerned. “I don’t know how human money works.”

The witch nodded, eyes softening. “Yes, the rabbit is fine. I’ve needed new bones for my fortune telling.”

“Rabbits do have bones,” Sam agreed sagely.

The witch made that queer noise again. Sam stared at her. Did humans pass hairballs? Gross.

.-.-.-.

Human legs were weird and wrong. Still, Sam plowed onward. The sooner he found his cardinal, the sooner he could press their lips together and end the curse. The witch, Wanda, had called it a ‘kiss.’ Sam marveled. Humans had names for everything.

He went to the glen where he’d seen his cardinal last. It was nearing dusk. Maybe he’d be there. He hoped he didn’t scare his cardinal off. He found these limbs very unwieldy, and he was making an awful lot of noise. He was glad he was so big, otherwise he’d have to worry about predators. He supposed humans at least had that going for them.

“Who’s there?” he heard someone call out. It sounded like his cardinal.

Sam went tromping into the glen. “It’s me, Sam!”

His cardinal saw him immediately and took a step back, looking frightened. “Who’s Sam? I don’t know you.”

Sam paused, then nodded, agreeing with him. Wanda had said he was very handsome for a human, but he privately thought he was much more handsome as a falcon. His cardinal had only seen him as his beautiful self. Of course he wouldn’t recognize him as a human. “I’m the falcon,” he explained. “The one that’s been chasing you for so long.”

His cardinal stared at him, shocked, eyes darting everywhere to take him in. He hoped that his cardinal thought he was as handsome as Wanda had. “Sam,” he whispered, looking up at him with wide, hurt eyes. “What have you done to yourself?”

“I had to help you when I heard you were cursed,” Sam reasoned. “How can we mate if you turn into a human at night?”

“But Sam,” his cardinal said, looking wounded. “This is what I am. I’m human. I was cursed to be a bird during the day.”

Sam considered this. “...So if I kiss you, you won’t be like me.”

“Sam,” his cardinal whispered, curling in on himself. “No, I won’t. I’ll just be human. I’m so sorry, Sam.”

Sam stared at his cardinal, unsettled. Finally, he softly said, “Will you sing for me one last time, then?”

His cardinal made a soft, mournful sound before answering, “Of course, Sam. I would love to sing for you. I always have.”

His cardinal’s voice wasn’t the same now, but Sam thought it was still one of the most beautiful songs he’d ever heard. He’d thought that his cardinal had sung to him, but it was nice to hear it confirmed. He approached his cardinal slowly, reaching out to cup his cheeks. His cardinal cut off with a startled gasp.

“Is being human what you want?” Sam asked.

His cardinal’s face went soft and sad again. “Oh, Sam. I wish I could give you… I love to fly, and I loved being chased by you, and I’ll miss both those things, but… being human is what I need. Yes, it’s what I want.”

Sam nodded once, firmly. “What’s your name, songbird?”

His cardinal smiled, melancholy tainting it just a little. “It’s Tony.”

“I want you to have what you want, Tony,” Sam said, and leaned in to press a kiss to his lips.

And oh, he could understand all of the sudden why humans liked to do this. The kiss was soft, and Tony melted against him so sweetly. He was so warm in his arms. It was the perfect way to break a curse.

“Sam,” Tony sobbed as he leaned back. “What have you done?”

“You needed to be human, and I didn’t need to be a bird,” Sam said, pulling him back into his arms. He felt nice there. Tony should always let him hold him. “Will you still sing for me, songbird?”

“I’ll sing anything you want, pretty falcon,” Tony whispered in his chest, sniffling. “Any song or tune you desire, I will sing it for you.”

“Sing me love songs, Tony,” Sam said.

He was pretty sure he said the right thing because Tony let out a soft whistle reminiscent of his cardinal songs and then leapt up to press their mouths together again. Sam could learn to deal with not flying. Tony’s kisses made him feel the same freedom and happiness. He’d just replace the joy of flying with kissing Tony.


	11. Phil Coulson/Tony Stark

Body Swap AU

Phil was out of the country when it happened. He felt guilty about it―not that he would have been able to do anything, of course. He’d already tangled with Loki once and almost…

Well. He’d already tangled with Loki once and learned that he was no match for a trickster god from another planet.

The Avengers were being kept at SHIELD for their own safety, and Phil knew he should probably not be so obvious, that if he gave Fury any information, he could technically be fired. But he’d heard “the Avengers are being kept at SHIELD after their incident with Loki,” and all he could imagine was Tony’s shocked face after being thrown out a window without the suit. He’d had JARVIS play the footage for him dozens of times just to punish himself for not taking care of Loki himself, letting him wreak havoc in New York. And then he’d played it dozens more after that first night Tony had snuggled beneath his arm, shaking.

So he burst into the room that had been assigned to Tony without any heed for what might happen to him.

“Oh,” Phil said, startled, hovering in the door. He stared. This was not Tony. This was Captain America. Who was shirtless. And examining himself in a mirror. “Oh. I do apologize, Captain Rogers. I thought this was…” he trailed off helplessly, looking around the room as if it might have answers. Hill had assigned the rooms. She wouldn’t do something as silly as mislabel them or let them go into the wrong ones.

“Phil, it’s me,” Captain Rogers said.

Phil stared at him, uncomprehending. “Yes, I’m sure it is, but I wasn’t looking for you, Captain Rogers.”

“You seriously still call him Captain Rogers?” Captain Rogers asked, unimpressed. “Even after he tripped over his own shield and went careening out a window and fell into a moving truck, where he got knocked out and somehow the truck traveled all the way to New Jersey without noticing him? I spent hours tracking him down, Phil. The least you can do is call him Captain Dumbass.”

Phil stared at him a little longer. The face, the voice, they were Captain Rogers’―but the way he rolled his eyes, the amused smile he smothered with exasperation, the inflection on different words, those were all Tony. “Tony?” he asked, just to be sure.

Captain Rogers(?) ducked his head bashfully. “Yeah. Looks like Loki was having a bit of fun at our expense instead of trying to take over the world this time.”

Phil opened his mouth, then closed it again. “And Captain Rogers is…?”

“In my body,” Tony confirmed grimly, looking down at his hands. He flexed them, took a deep breath, then let it back out in a sigh.

“Is he…?” Phil began, then stopped, unsure of how to phrase his question.

“He’s fine,” Tony said, then grimaced. It was strange, seeing Captain Rogers grimace, somehow both entirely the same and completely different from when Tony did. “Or, well. He says he’s fine. But I heard him asking the doctor what was wrong with him as I was ushered into another room.”

Phil wanted to say that there was nothing wrong with him, but he’d seen the x-rays firsthand. Tony’s chest had been… a mess, to be frank. Shrapnel everywhere, arc reactor in place of his sternum, lung capacity shrunk by an alarming percent. Even today Tony got out of breath easily, and the chronic pain of the arc reactor varied in intensity from day to day. It was so easy for him to get infections, and he had to be careful that he didn’t strain the muscles in his chest, because he had once bruised himself on the reactor by clenching too hard while lifting something heavy, and it had about knocked him out with the pain.

“And how are you?” Phil asked.

Tony looked surprised. “Me? I’m fine. Never been better. It’s hard to complain when you’re the peak of human perfection, after all. I’ve taken several deep breaths and done several sit ups. Just for fun! I’m not tired, and I’m not in pain, and―” he added, turning to peek at himself in the mirror again. “―I’m pretty fuckin’ hot, too, so. What’s not to like?”

Phil frowned at him. He did not miss Tony’s hand lifting to drum his fingers against an arc reactor only to find it wasn’t there, didn’t miss him curling his fingers over his chest and staring, looking for scars he’d never find because Captain Rogers didn’t have any. He’d said that even his scars previous to the serum had healed over time.

He approached Tony as he stared himself down, reaching out to take his hand. He nearly let it go on contact. The skin was soft, smooth―not rough and calloused like Tony’s. Tony had the hands of a man who worked hard with them, tough enough to withstand his work, only smooth when he accidentally burned a blister onto them. They were more muscular, too, which Phil couldn’t help but marvel at a little; Tony might have been the only person on the team without some form of unnatural strength, but he was plenty muscular.

Tony turned toward him, not gripping back, probably too afraid to hurt him with his super-soldier strength now. “How was your mission?”

“Fine. Boring,” Phil corrected after some thought. “Faulty information. I watched a baker bake for two weeks. There is something worse than watching paint dry and it is watching bread bake.”

Tony laughed, a little strange when it was Captain Rogers’ laugh because of Tony’s mirth. “I bet,” he said, amused, and then leaned down toward him.

Phil stared for a moment, uncomprehending, before he suddenly realized all at once what was happening. He put his hand on Tony’s face and shoved him away. “No!”

He either underestimated his own strength or overestimated how much Tony would resist, because Tony went down like a fallen oak. Tony sat up, stunned. Phil almost laughed at him, but Tony’s expression was rapidly falling.

“Oh,” Tony said softly, sadly. It was strange, seeing that kind of heartbreak on Captain Rogers’ face―it was Tony’s through and through.

“Tony,” Phil said. “I am going to explain this one more time, and I hope my previous action finally puts it through your thick skull. _ I do not want to fuck Captain America_.”

Tony’s eyes went wide, and his mouth opened into a shocked little ‘o.’ “Phil!”

“I know you tease me because I’m a Captain America fanboy,” Phil continued, face grim. “But I’m just that―a fanboy. I do not want to fuck him. I do not want to cuddle him.” He looked Tony over before meeting his eyes again. “And most of all _ I do not want to kiss him_.”

Tony continued to look shocked and hurt for a moment, but then he chuckled, covering his mouth. “Oh my God.”

“Here we go,” Phil sighed.

“You shoved Captain America to the ground,” Tony giggled.

It was disconcerting, Phil decided, seeing this amount of glee on Captain Rogers’ face. Captain Rogers had never looked gleeful about anything, especially not over being pushed to the goddamn ground.

“I’m gonna tell him,” Tony began, grinning at him.

“So how long is this supposed to last?” Phil cut in hastily.

Tony paused, then leaned his chin on his hand. “Thor said Loki’s pranks are just inconvenient, not miserable, so three days, probably. He would have gone after him to get this over with sooner, but he switched bodies with Clint, and… you know…”

“No one wanted Clint to try and use Thor’s powers,” Phil surmised. He understood that. He also definitely didn’t want Clint to try and use Thor’s powers. He looked Tony up and down again. “So I can’t kiss you for three days,” he said, trying and mostly succeeding not to look too dismayed.

He needn’t have bothered. Tony’s face fell immediately once he realized what he meant. “And no cuddles either so I can’t even get a hug,” he said sadly, shoulders sagging.

Phil swallowed thickly, then sighed, rolling his eyes. “I will give you _ one _ hug.”

Tony brightened immediately. Phil suddenly understood what Tony meant when he called Captain Rogers a giant golden retriever in a man’s body. He made grabby hands at him. It wasn’t quite as cute as when Tony did it in his own body.

“I missed you,” Tony said softly.

“I missed you too,” Phil murmured back. He couldn’t say he quite enjoyed hugging Captain Rogers, unfortunately. Tony wasn’t small by any means, but he was a couple inches shorter than Phil, and slighter in frame than Captain Rogers. While he wouldn’t say it was a bad hug―it was warm, and kind of nice feeling a chest rise and fall without any problem―he missed holding Tony. Up close he could feel the fine tremors that Tony had probably been actively trying to hide from him.

And he couldn’t just… _ not _ kiss him after realizing that, learning that Tony was more distressed than he let on, trying to put on a brave face for him once he’d realized he was there. He tried to keep it brief, but Tony let out this little whimper, so he kept pressing in, trying to convey as much reassurance into the kiss as he could.

But then Tony was grabbing his shoulders and easing him away, looking confused and, perhaps, a little embarrassed. “Uh,” he said.

Phil stared at him. That sounded so wrong. Tony never sounded so uncertain around him, not anymore.

“Uh,” he said again, and then, “Agent Coulson? Is there a reason you’re kissing me?”

Phil stared at him a little longer, stunned.

Then he panicked, pulled out his taser, and jabbed Captain Rogers with it until he was twitching on the ground. Then he fled, mortified.

.-.-.-.

“It’s true love’s kiss!” Tony crowed. “Thor said it broke the spell! You truly love me!”

“Tony Captain Rogers came back into his body while I was kissing him I need to fake my death again,” Phil told him hurriedly.

Tony turned to look at him, confused. “Why?”

“Because if we don’t my humiliation will literally kill me. I will die for real.”

Tony couldn’t help but pout. “What’s an awkward kiss between friends? You broke the spell. He should be glad!”

“I was so surprised that I tased him and left him drooling on the floor,” Phil said. “I tased a superior officer. Fury will fire me for sure.”

Tony stared at him, then let out a bark of laughter. “HA! This could only happen to you, Phil,” he said, chuckling, then winced and grabbed his chest.

Phil was by his side immediately, concerned. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I just… forgot for a minute,” Tony answered softly, staring down at his feet. “I guess it was… nice. Not to have to hurt for a while.”

Phil pulled him into his arms, problem with Captain Rogers put on the back burner in favor of Tony’s distress. “I’m sure it was nice,” he said gently.

Tony cuddle up against his chest with a soft sigh, soaking in the warmth and affection as he quietly admitted, “Yes, it was.”

Phil tilted Tony’s head up gently, leaning down to press their lips together. This… this time it felt right, Tony’s facial hair scratching against his skin, his body slotting against him where it was supposed to. This felt much better than holding Captain Rogers’ body. He was glad that Tony had had a moment where he felt no pain, and sorry he had to feel it again, but he wouldn’t want Tony to be anyone but himself.

“Well, there’s one thing I have that Steve doesn’t,” Tony murmured when he broke the kiss.

Phil smiled, amused. “And what’s that?”

“You,” Tony answered, grinning. “At least I have you.”

Phil couldn’t help but melt a little. “Oh.”

Tony leaned in to give him another quick kiss before he leaned back with a shit-eating grin. “Especially now that I know you have no romantic interest in Steve whatsoever.”

“Tony,” Phil said.

“You tased him!” Tony said gleefully.

“Tony,” Phil said again.

“This is the best day of my life, I learned that you have no romantic affection for Steve _ and _ you tased him, I’m never letting this go!” Tony crowed.

“If you really love me, you wouldn’t do this,” Phil tried.

Tony cupped his cheeks and smiled up at him. “If you really love me, you know that’s a lie.”

“I do,” Phil sighed.

Tony leaned in for another kiss, this time lingering just a little longer before he drew back. “Because I love you, I’ll hold off teasing you properly until tomorrow.”

“If I lose my job you can’t tease me at all,” Phil ordered.

“You won’t lose your job,” Tony scoffed, rolling his eyes fondly. “I’ll quit my contracting job if they do, and SHIELD can’t afford that. I’m only halfway through the new plans for the helicarrier.”

Phil couldn’t help but smile. “Don’t blackmail Director Fury.”

“I’ll do whatever I want!” Tony retorted, unashamed.

Phil rolled his eyes and pulled him back into another hug. That was pretty much the reason he’d fallen in love with Tony, anyway.


	12. Phil Coulson/Tony Stark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow my random generator put these next to each other but I couldn’t be bothered to put the list through again and I love Phil/Tony.

Teacher AU

Mr. Stark had the biggest, most offensive crush on the vice principal. It was kind of embarrassing to watch, honestly.

If Mr. Stark saw Mr. Coulson in the courtyard, he’d wave and shout, “Hey! Phil!” Mr. Coulson would only nod back at him, and mostly as an afterthought. If Mr. Stark passed him in the hall, he’d reach out and pat Mr. Coulson’s arm as he walked by. Mr. Coulson rarely acknowledged when this happened. If Mr. Stark and Mr. Coulson happened to have parking lot duty together, Mr. Stark would hover nearby and chatter at him between goodbyes to the students. Mr. Coulson would only murmur the occasional ‘mmhmm,’ or ‘right,’ if he answered at all.

It wasn’t fair, the students lamented. Mr. Stark was bright, vivacious, and sweet. Sure, he could get worked up over nothing sometimes, but people had their faults. His ire was never turned on them, in any case, and typically manifested itself in gloomy moping.

Like now, unfortunately.

“I heard that Mr. Stark asked Mr. Coulson out on a date and he turned him down flat,” M.J. whispered, frowning. “And then he transferred so they didn’t have to work anymore.”

“I heard Mr. Coulson eloped with a cellist and they’re off on their honeymoon,” Flash whispered back.

Peter frowned. “I know which one _ I _ hope is true.”

“I heard the first part of what M.J. heard,” Ned added. “But the ending was different. They said that Mr. Coulson faked his death to get away from him.”

“These are all horrible,” Peter said, peeking over at where Mr. Stark was correcting their tests and trying not to look like a puppy that had just been kicked. He wasn’t really successful.

Ned frowned over at him too. “Poor Mr. Stark. I’ve heard the seniors talking about how he was pining over him since _ they _ were freshmen. To like Mr. Coulson so long and be turned down…”

“We’ll just have to cheer him up!” Peter decided.

Flash rolled his eyes and opened his mouth, but M.J. narrowed her eyes and held her hand up. “Wait. Peter may be onto something for once.”

“What do you mean, ‘for once?!’” Peter sputtered.

“There’s tons of hot teachers here,” M.J. continued. “Like, this school is full of unnaturally hot teachers. It’s weird. Even Mr. Stark is hot.”

“I mean, I guess,” Flash mumbled, resting his chin on his hand.

Peter frowned. “I was mostly talking about drawing cheerful doodles on our tests. I know he likes finding them.”

“Or we could just get him a rebound,” M.J. pointed out. “Mr. Coulson didn’t deserve him anyway.”

“What about Mr. Odinson?” Ned suggested.

“Which one?” Flash asked. “Because P.E. Odinson is dating Dr. Foster and English Odinson is creepy as fuck.”

“Oh, I was thinking P.E. Odinson,” Ned mumbled. He paused thoughtfully, then added, “That’s cool though, I can see it! Dr. Foster is so cool. I can’t wait until I can take advanced physics!”

Peter held his hands up. “I just want the record to show that I think this is a horrible idea.”

“Noted, ignored,” M.J. replied. “What about Ms. Potts?”

“Should we really be setting him up with someone scary right after he was dumped on his ass though?” Ned asked.

They all paused to consider this.

“Probably not, no,” M.J. finally said, and everyone agreed.

“So that scratches out Ms. Potts, Ms. Hill, Ms. Romanova, and Mr. Barnes,” Ned said.

“What are you talking about? Mr. Barnes is a pussycat,” M.J. scoffed.

“I’m pretty sure he’s murdered at least three people,” Peter explained.

“Who hasn’t?” M.J. asked flippantly, pulling out her phone so she could pull up the staff website for the school.

The boys stared at her, concerned, but also too terrified to ask for clarification.

“What about Mr. Rogers?” Flash asked after a minute.

They were quiet for a moment, thoughtful, before Peter said, “That could work. Mr. Rogers is really nice, and he and Mr. Stark are already friendly…”

“And if that doesn’t work out, we could always try Ms. Lewis,” M.J. decided.

“...Mr. Stark and Ms. Lewis would burn down the school,” Ned mumbled.

“Yeah, but they’d be happy,” M.J. reasoned.

The boys sweated. They hoped it worked out with Mr. Rogers.

.-.-.-.

“Mr. Stark? I like him just fine,” Mr. Rogers said, confused. “We’re friends. Why do you ask?”

“Research!” Ned blurted out.

“Just wondering!” Peter squeaked.

“Mr. Stark’s looked really sad lately and we wanted you to cheer him up,” M.J. said.

They stared at her, shocked at the brazenness of her lie (and also impressed by how she had pulled her lie off so much better), then turned back to Mr. Rogers, hopeful anyway.

Mr. Rogers looked surprised. “Well I mean, his husband was stabbed a few weeks ago. He's fine, but Tony's always been a worrier. I’d say that was a reason to be sad, don’t you?”

“HIS HUSBAND,” they shouted, stunned.

Mr. Rogers actually stumbled backward in shock. “Holy shit,” he said, and then, “Oh my God, don’t tell anyone I swore, they will never let me hear the end of it!”

“What do you mean, Mr. Stark has a husband?!” Peter exclaimed.

“He’s been married for six years,” Mr. Rogers confirmed, bewildered.

“Six _ years?! _” Ned screeched.

“Then why’s he been flirting with Mr. Coulson so much?!” M.J. asked accusingly.

Mr. Rogers stared at them for quite some time, baffled, before he replied, “Because that’s his husband?”

He was not prepared for the unholy screeches he got in response to that statement, and so dropped an F-bomb right as Principal Fury went walking by.

.-.-.-.

“You’ll never believe what Steve told me today,” Tony giggled as he pranced into the house.

Phil groaned. “Don’t bounce like that. Just looking at you makes my stab wound hurt.”

Tony beelined over to him, concerned. “Do you need something? Your pain meds? Food? Frozen peas?”

“I’m fine,” Phil grunted. It was really only a flesh wound. Their attacker had been a scared kid who had done more damage to his own hand than to him. Still, though, he did like having Tony fuss over him; it was part of the reason he’d actually taken the extra sick days he’d been ordered instead of the bare minimum he could get away with. He patted the seat beside him. “I could use a hug maybe.”

Tony, ever the overachiever, immediately sat down next to him and curled up against his side, arms wrapped around his chest and one leg gently, carefully curled over Phil’s so as not to jostle him. He pressed a kiss to Phil’s collarbone for good measure.

“What did Steve tell you today?” Phil sighed, wrapping his arm around Tony and burying his face in his hair.

“Apparently all of the students at school thought I was single and pining after you,” Tony said, smiling against Phil’s chest.

Phil was quiet for a very, very long time before he whispered, “Why is it that every time there’s an intelligent person, that intelligent person is also an idiot?”

“Keeps us humble,” Tony said smugly. “It’s okay though. Apparently everyone thought my pining was super sad and pathetic, which will keep me way more humble than the fact that they didn’t know at all.”

“You’re not sad and pathetic,” Phil grumbled into his hair. “I thought your obliviousness to my flirting was cute.”

“Yeah, well, some of the students were trying to set me up with Steve so I could rebound and get over you after you―wait, wait, I made a list.”

Phil scowled as Tony got back up to go digging through his folders. “I’m ailing. I’m wounded. I require comfort and companionship and here you are just―”

“I’m coming right back, you big baby,” Tony retorted, plucking up the list and making his way back to the couch to snuggle up with him again.

Phil muttered under his breath petulantly. “I got stabbed protecting _ you _, remember?”

“My hero,” Tony deadpanned. “I still think you should have let him just take our wallets.”

Phil rolled his eyes. He really should have, honestly. “What were you going to rebound with Steve over?” he asked, instead of admitting that Tony could have possibly been right.

“I finally got the courage to ask you out after six years of pining and you turned me down,” Tony said, reading from the top. “And you faked your death to get away from me.”

“Too much effort,” Phil sighed, closing his eyes and leaning his head against Tony’s.

“I finally got the courage to ask you out after six years of pining and you jilted me to instead elope with a cellist in Portland. Or she was from Portland, I don’t know really know.”

“It still sounds like effort,” Phil complained.

“I finally got the courage to ask you out after six years of pining and you turned me down flat, requesting a transfer to get away from me,” Tony continued.

Phil paused, frowning, then leaned back a little. “Is that really what they think of me? That I’m some unfeeling asshole who would just break your heart and then casually do whatever I could do to never see you again?”

“Well,” Tony said, and then stopped to really think about it. “I mean, to be fair, you’re the one they have to go see when they’re in trouble, and you have no problem laying that guilt on thick. And it doesn’t help that I’m the cool computers and robotics teacher. We’re not what you’d call an obvious match.”

“I have a picture of us on our wedding day _ on my desk_,” Phil pointed out.

“Yeah, facing _you_,” Tony retorted. “The kids can’t see it. For all they know, you had the school code of conduct printed out and framed.”

Phil sighed. “Children are literally the worst, I have no idea why I decided teaching and then administrating was right for me. If you ever figure out time travel, go back in time and convince me not to.”

“But then you wouldn’t have met me,” Tony cooed, and leaned in to peck his lips quickly.

“I would have,” Phil said. “When you convinced me. And then I’d just keep searching for you until I found you.”

“Okay, Time Traveler’s Wife,” Tony scoffed, burying his face in Phil’s chest so he couldn’t see him blush.

Phil smirked before letting out an exhausted little sigh. “I’m tired. Can we just order in so I can take my meds and go to sleep?”

“Yeah,” Tony said gently, tipping his head up to kiss him again. “That sounds good. I’ll do some grading in bed so you’re not alone, okay?”

“I knew there was a reason I loved you,” Phil joked. He couldn’t wait for the pain to ease, but somehow, Tony just being there worked just as well as the meds did.

.-.-.-.

Phil’s first point of business after being out of school for a month and a half was to wait until everyone had an eye on him and Tony, and then reach back to grab a handful of ass and squeeze.

It was worth it to hear Tony yelp a shrill “Phil!” while the students stared at him in disbelief.

“Mr. Coulson,” Fury barked.

“At least you didn’t drop an F-bomb in front of him,” Tony said hurriedly.

Phil was not sorry and doubted he ever would be as he swanned into Fury’s office, unrepentant.


	13. Thor/Tony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANOTHER WARNING IF YOU DIDN'T MIND THE TAGS!!!!!: There's (canon) character death in here and brief mentions of what happened to their bodies. Be careful as you read, friends! Not sure if this is truly horror but I've always found the immediate end of battle/war horrifying as you take stock of what happened.

Horror AU

The castle was on fire.

Thor stared up at it, speechless in his horror as he watched one of the spires collapse in on itself. He’d left his family there. He’d left  _ Anthony _ there. And now the building that was supposed to be protecting them was, perhaps, collapsing around them.

“What happened?” Loki whispered, too shocked to speak any louder.

“GET US DOCKED  _ NOW _ ,” Thor roared, and lightning crackled over the ship.

There were invaders at the dock ready to meet them, equipped with bows and arrows. Loki threw up a shield, but wasn’t entirely fast enough―three men fell, arrows struck through an eye, a chest. Thor raised his hammer to call for more lightning, but didn’t have the chance to use it before Brunnhilde swept by on her flying horse, letting out a scream of righteous fury as she heaved Dragonfang into the invaders, knocking those not immediately slain to the ground.

It gave them on the ship the chance to disembark, forgoing the gangplank to instead just leap off the ship and plunge headlong into the fray.

“Valkyrie!” Thor shouted.

Brunnhilde swept over to him, taking out several invaders as she did so. “Your highness!” she called back.

“Take Aragorn and check the castle!” Thor ordered. “Search for any survivors and take them to safety! And if you see my family, send word!”

Brunnhilde slew a few more invaders before turning back toward him. “Any word?” she asked.

“Aye,” Thor agreed grimly. If they were dead, he wanted― _ needed _ to know. The anxiety of not knowing was worse than knowing he would need to mourn.

Brunnhilde nodded grimly, let out another angry scream, and delved back into the fray, heading steadily toward the castle.

Thor focused on the invaders, fighting his way off the dock, toward the castle. He had no idea how long they’d been there, how long the onslaught on his people had been, and all he could do was ache, and hate, and funnel every negative feeling into fighting. He couldn’t tell who these invaders were. He’d never seen their armor or flags before. He had to admit that under the anger, it terrified him that they hadn’t known, hadn’t had any warning. Some strange people from who-knows-where had laid siege to their home and done an excellent job of it, too.

The castle was still on fire. He wondered how long it had been burning before they’d seen it, coming back into port.

.-.-.-.

Brunnhilde returned just as they’d killed the last of the invaders; the enemy hadn’t surrendered even when it was offered, instead preferring to die rather than submit.

The invaders hadn’t been as merciful as the Asgardians in battle, apparently.

“I found King Odin in the throne room,” Brunnhilde murmured, eyes on the ground in dismay, in disgust, in terror. “It was like they’d torn him apart. Queen Frigga, she―”

Thor held his hand up, and she quieted. He turned to Loki, frowning. “Loki, you do not need to stay and listen to this. Go rest.”

“But I―” Loki began angrily.

“Please know that I am only ordering this for your best interest,” Thor cut in gently. “I know how deeply you cared for our mother. You’re tired. You’ve fought well today. You protected us. Now let me protect you, if only for a moment. You do not need to hear what happened to our mother from Valkyrie. I will tell you in my own words, after you’ve rested.”

“I’m not a child,” Loki started again, voice shaking. “I can hear what happened to our mother.”

“Aye,” Volstagg replied, one hand curling around Loki’s shoulder. “You are not a child. But you were  _ her _ child. Rest, and let your brother tell you when the shock isn’t so sharp.”

Loki looked up at him, and for all that they’d both insisted he was not a child, he looked so incredibly small and lost. Thor ached to give him a hug, but Loki was prickly on the best of days; he didn’t want to push his luck, especially after ordering him to leave.

“I’ll go rest,” Loki finally agreed quietly, and let Volstagg lead him away.

Thor watched him go, grim-faced, before turning back to Brunnhilde. “I’m sorry. I’m sure this isn’t any easier for you, either.”

Brunnhilde shrugged one shoulder, the most emotion she would probably allow until she had a bottle in her hand. “It is my duty,” she said, neither accepting or declining his regrets. She waited to make sure Loki was entirely out of hearing range before she murmured, just low enough for him to hear, “Queen Frigga was in the courtyard. They’d savaged her, mutilated her. She’d taken down many enemies but was eventually overrun. I’m sorry, your highness, but it looks like the throne falls to you, now.”

Thor closed his eyes and swallowed thickly, then forced them back open, blinking back tears. “I see.” He swallowed again, fear and anger souring his stomach. “And Anthony?”

Brunnhilde was quiet for a long time, so quiet that he feared the worst, wished he could also leave until someone broke the news to him gently. But finally, she said, “I could not find him.”

Thor paused, then let out a wounded, broken sound. “You couldn’t find him?”

“I could not find him,” she repeated. “There were few left in the castle when I arrived, and they couldn’t say where Anthony was, but all of them were certain that your mother died to ensure that he would escape.”

Thor staggered, unsure whether to be angry or glad, and Sif reached out to grab his arm and lead him gently to the ground. “So he might have escaped...”

“Heimdall is still with us. You can ask him,” Brunnhilde confirmed.

Thor couldn’t help a sob. At least  _ someone _ he knew and cared for might have survived the siege.

.-.-.-.

“Anthony was tasked with gathering whoever he could and leading them to safety,” Heimdall said. “I do not know who he found, where he went, or how many escaped, but I know that your mother died making sure he and the others could flee.” He sagged onto a stone, using it for a chair. He looked exhausted.

“Do you know where he went?” Thor asked hurriedly. “Where he was supposed to lead everyone?”

Heimdall sighed again, the sigh of a man who had seen too much, known too much mourning. He looked regretful as he shook his head. “This was a task set by your mother, I think because she knew at least one of them needed to survive. She did not tell me where Anthony was to go. She said she trusted that I would never tell, but that the walls had ears, so she couldn’t risk it.”

“The walls had ears,” Thor repeated, numb. “The walls had―do you mean that there was a traitor among us in the castle?”

Heimdall nodded grimly. “Aye. But your mother never confided in me, and what Odin told me was vague. Anthony became her confidant. I believe that Anthony knew something was wrong long before even Frigga and Odin, but your father brushed him off, and so Frigga and Anthony did what they could to prepare. Thor,” he added solemnly. “Your highness. They didn’t come for prisoners. They came to decimate us entirely. I’m sure they must have chased him.”

“And we don’t know where he could have gone,” Thor said softly.

Heimdall heaved himself to his feet. “I’ll look for him.”

“You must be tired,” Thor said half-heartedly. He wanted Heimdall to look, but not at the expense of being battle-ready.

Heimdall met his eyes, and Thor suddenly understood why his father let Heimdall have all the free rein he desired. “I’ll look for him,” he repeated.

“Thank you,” Thor whispered, ducking his head, and felt just as small and lost as Loki had looked when he’d agreed to be sent away.

Heimdall reached out, curling his fingers over Thor’s shoulder, and squeezed.

.-.-.-.

Heimdall hadn’t needed to look far. Once they’d gotten into the forest, they’d begun to find more fallen invaders. They found a few Asgardians as well, people they recognized vaguely, like a maid, who looked enraged even in death, and a man who used to work in the smithy but had recently gotten too old to continue the work. Thor was proud of them whenever they stumbled across them; they were always surrounded by the bodies of invaders, obviously choosing to stay and fight so that others could continue on.

The number of invaders slowly trickled, though, with more space in between them, until finally they found one last invader sprawled out on the ground, strangled to death by one of the castle cooks, who had been run clean through with the invader’s weapon and had still had enough fight in her to choke him with her hands until he stopped breathing.

They continued into the forest, but it was hard, without a trail anymore. They must have had someone who could unbend the grass after they’d trod on it, unbreak any branches, repair any fallen leaf. Thor was reluctantly impressed at the tenacity of the invaders for following the escaping group and also deeply, incredibly proud of his people for staying behind to fight them.

Then he was clubbed in the head and was mostly just annoyed.

.-.-.-.

Thor came back to consciousness to find Loki leaning over him. “What happened?” he asked, head throbbing.

“You were clubbed in the head,” Loki explained unhelpfully.

Thor glared at him and hoped it showed how annoyed he was, but he wasn’t certain it worked; he mostly just felt like his eyes were crossing with the pain. “Yes. Thank you, Loki. I was around for that part.”

Loki shrugged and motioned to the side, and Thor turned, following his gaze.

Bruce was holding a boy in his arms, soothing him as he sobbed. There was a shield laying at his feet.

“Steven,” Thor choked out, remembering him because of the frustration he’d expressed when Thor had said no children would be accompanying them on their trip, fighting to the bitterest end because he was nearly an adult and only accepting defeat when Thor had fibbed and said he needed to stay and protect the castle. How unhappily true his fib had become.

“I’m sorry,” Steven sobbed. “I didn’t know it was you! I thought it was―it was―”

Thor held his arms out to him, and Bruce urged him forward until Steve stumbled into them. “Oh, Steven, it’s alright. It’s alright. You were protecting everyone. I know you were.”

“They were following us for so long,” he whispered, shaking. “They just kept coming.”

“I know,” Thor said softly. “I know, Steven.”

“And Prince Anthony got so hurt trying to protect us,” Steven sniffled. “I don’t know how he is now, but I couldn’t let anyone else come out alone.”

Thor felt a pang of terror at the fact that Anthony was hurt, but he swallowed it down. “That was very brave of you, Steven. I’m proud of you.” He leaned back, one hand going up to push Steven’s hair out of his wet eyes. “Can you take us to them, Steven?”

“Yes,” Steven said. He took a step back, sniffing, and wiped his eyes. When he looked up, he looked more determined. “I can.”

.-.-.-.

“I feel like this is going to be a central theme to your reign,” Loki said, leaning over him.

“I hate you,” Thor said, and seriously considered pulling the arrow from his shoulder just to stab Loki with it.

“I’m sorry,” Clint said tearfully, leaning over him as well. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

Thor lifted his uninjured arm, one hand cupping Clint’s cheek. “It’s alright. You had to protect everyone. I understand.”

Clint sniffled and wiped at his eyes. Thor’s heart squeezed in his chest. It didn’t escape his notice that the glen Steve had led them to was full of nothing but children. It suddenly became crystal clear to him why so many people had been willing to drop behind and lay down their lives for the rest of the group―they had to protect the children.

“Bruce will see to my injuries, and I’ll be fine,” Thor assured Clint one last time. “I’m proud of you for protecting everyone. Steven clubbed me with his shield, so it’s not like you were the only one to make this mistake.”

Clint sniffled again. “Really?”

“Really,” Thor said kindly, then slowly got to his feet. “Where’s Anthony?”

Clint looked like he might cry all over again, but then he turned, pointing toward a tree that many of the smaller children were huddled around. Thor waved Bruce off in favor of approaching them, and then sighed and stopped to let him at least pull the arrow free, because Bruce had given him the dirtiest look to ever exist. Once that was done, he gently urged the children away, to go see the rest of the survivors to get food and drink. He didn’t want to think about how long they’d gone without food that only one or two of them hesitated before getting up and running over to the group he’d come with.

He was glad for it, though, when his eyes finally landed on Anthony. “Oh,” he said, sounding more like it had been punched out of him than anything.

Anthony looked so small, nestled in the roots of the tree. He was pale, and shaking, and one of his arms looked like it had been burned from fingertip to neck. Thor was almost certain it was self-inflicted. None of the invaders had had magic like Anthony’s, and Anthony had once warned him that because his people favored their physical weapons over magic, he didn’t have as much control over his powers as the Asgardians had. Which normally wouldn’t have been a problem, until he was protecting dozens of children from an invading army.

Thor reached out slowly to touch his cheek. Anthony’s skin was clammy, cold, and he flinched immediately, throwing up his good hand with a whimper. His eyes peeled open slowly, almost reluctantly, as he held up his uninjured hand.

Thor grabbed it, squeezing gently. “I’m here, beloved.”

Anthony’s hand crackled with energy before falling lax, a sad facsimile of what his powers actually were. It was as if he hadn’t seen who it was, hadn’t heard him―hadn’t recognized him at all. Maybe he hadn’t. His brow had sweat beading on it, and when Thor looked closer, he realized Anthony wasn’t able to see him at all. His pupils were blown wide, so much that he almost couldn’t see his irises, and he whimpered before his hand sparked with energy again. The sparks died just as quickly as they had before.

Thor stared at their hands for a long moment, then carefully reached out and drew Anthony into his arms. Anthony was like a doll against him, limbs lax, head lolling about until Thor gently eased it to his unwounded shoulder. He didn’t want to think about what Anthony had had to do to release so much power, how threatened he must have felt. Didn’t want to think about how terrified and confused the rest of his people must have felt when the siege first began. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on those things. Later, perhaps, when they actually had time to let the guilt simmer despite the fact that Odin had been the one to send them on their trip anyway.

A little girl that Thor knew Tony favored approached him, face expressing nothing but detached solemness. “Your highness?” she asked.

Thor looked down at her. “Yes?”

“What do we do now?” she asked.

Thor looked at the group, the dozens of children ranging in age from infancy to almost adults, and the people who had accompanied him to search for them while the others set about burying their dead properly. He looked down at Anthony, whose breath was shallow, and who kept crackling with the odd spark, as if not quite sure to believe whether he was real or not.

He didn’t know. When they’d finally set sail for home, none of them had expected to have to fight tooth and nail to be able to survive, let alone protect it. Thor hadn’t expected to come home and learn that his parents were dead, that he was the new ruler of their people. He had so much to do, had to send people to scout out the damage done to the rest of their holdings, take stock of supplies and weaponry, see to his queen’s wounds and his own exhaustion.

The girl, Natasha he thought her name was, looked up at him with eyes that had already seen too much.

“We recuperate. We mourn,” Thor told her gently. “And then we rebuild.”

Natasha stared up at him, considering, before nodding firmly in agreement.

Thor pressed his lips to the top of Anthony’s head as she turned and walked over to an older boy who, upon closer inspection, looked like he’d had his arm torn off. That was all he could ask of them now, anyway, especially as he led them back to the husk of the castle they’d fled, all of them looking decades older than when he’d left them a few months ago.

Anthony didn’t stir. He wondered if Anthony would ever recover from this. Thor pressed another kiss to the top of his head and decided it was his fault if Anthony didn’t, even as he hoped and prayed that Anthony would pull through.

At least Anthony had stopped crackling with energy. He hoped that meant Anthony had at least acknowledged him as an ally, if not as his husband coming to rescue him.

“I’m so proud of you for protecting everyone,” Thor murmured into his ear, softly, privately. “So proud, and impressed. You did an excellent job, Anthony. You can rest now, beloved.”

Anthony let out a soft sound, like the cooing of a dove, and then somehow went even more boneless in his arms.

Thor held him all the way back to the ruined castle, refusing to let anyone else take him. This was his burden to bear. He was king now, after all. If he couldn't take care of his queen, how could he be expected to take care of his people?


	14. M'Baku/Tony/T'Challa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Started up school again so the remaining chapters will probably be slow to update. But I will finish out the month eventually!

Rival AU

Tony Stark arrived in Wakanda to exactly zero fanfare. He looked delighted by it.

“Is he wearing a Hawaiian shirt?” Shuri whispered.

“Is he wearing socks with sandals?” Okoye whispered back.

Ramonda was quiet for several minutes before turning her gaze on her son. “And this was the man you wanted me to meet?”

“He doesn’t normally look like this,” T’Challa said desperately.

“King T’Challa!” Tony crowed as he approached. “Thanks for the invitation!”

T’Challa reached out to take his hand and shake it immediately. “The pleasure is all mine. I’m glad you are… so comfortable here.”

Tony paused, looking confused. “You… said to dress comfortably.”

“I did,” T’Challa agreed. “I’m glad you listened to me, but I fear your socks may get warm.”

“Oh!” Tony said, cheerful again. “I’m trying out a new fabric I designed! It’s supposed to wick really quickly and keep feet cool,” he added, lifting his foot and examining it. “And I figured, where better to test it than in the heat of Wakanda? Except they’re a little too bulky for the tennis shoes I brought on the trip. So I’ll have to fix the size issue,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. “Maybe more linen…”

“Ah,” Ramonda said. “A scientist.”

Tony seemed to notice her all of a sudden and jerked toward her. “Do I bow? T’Challa said you don’t do that here but I’m intimidated and feel the need to bow.”

Ramonda’s lips finally curled into a smile. “Bow or don’t.”

“I’m gonna bow,” Tony decided, and did so.

“Are you going to bow to me too?” Shuri asked, amused.

Tony looked at her, looked back at Ramonda, then declared, “You’re not as intimidating as your mother yet. So I will nod at you. It’s basically a bow.”

“It’s not,” Shuri choked out, trying to sound like she was pouting but mostly sounding like she was trying not to laugh. “Tell me about your socks.”

“It’s a merino-linen-nylon blend!” Tony answered immediately, and allowed her to take his arm and begin leading him away. “I’m hoping to make a full undersuit out of this. It gets very sweaty in the armor. So far I’m pretty pleased!”

Ramonda watched them go fondly. “Not the worst man I’ve ever been introduced to,” she said, amused. She frowned a little. “Nothing like his father at all.”

T’Challa tilted his head. His father had told him stories. Tony hadn’t mentioned anything about Howard at all. Which was fine! He didn’t like the way Tony’s eyebrows went all pinched and his mouth went all awkward when Howard was mentioned, anyway.

“Hey, who’s the weirdo wearing socks and sandals?” M’Baku asked as he approached. “And why was Shuri being so nice to a colonizer?”

“He showed up wearing socks and sandals,” Ramonda replied, amused.

M’Baku hummed, agreeing. “T’Challa, I wanted to talk to you about that fever going around. We think we finally found a plant to counteract it.”

“Oh good,” T’Challa said.

M’Baku seemed to suddenly take notice of the small jet nearby. “What the―”

“It seems Mr. Stark wanted to test out his new hovering technology as well,” Ramonda said, smiling. “I better go make sure Shuri doesn’t steal his socks. He seemed very proud of them.”

“Thank you,” T’Challa replied, because honestly, Shuri might actually try to steal them. He turned back to M’Baku, who was still staring at the jet. “So―”

“Brains  _ and _ that ass?” M’Baku mused. “Maybe I should meet him.”

“No,” T’Challa blurted out immediately.

M’Baku looked at him, and T’Challa recognized the glint in his eye as the one he’d had right before they’d fought for the throne. God damn it.

.-.-.-.

“Oh, hello, nice to meet you,” Tony said, taking M’Baku’s hand and pumping it up and down twice. “My suitcase might explode so I need to leave but maybe we can talk later Shuri says you’re nice and once threw her brother into a tree.”

“UP,” T’Challa called after him. “He threw me  _ up _ into the tree to grab aaaaand he’s gone.”

M’Baku looked slightly put out. “If he didn’t want to talk to me, he didn’t have to make up such a silly―”

There was the sound of an explosion, and then smoke came billowing out from the open door. M’Baku jerked as if to run toward it, but T’Challa grabbed his arm to stop him.

“Wh,” M’Baku began, offended.

“Mm-mm,” T’Challa cut in, shaking his head.

They waited about three beats before Tony’s voice called out, “I’m okay! There’s absolutely nothing to see here! And also I can pay for this!”

“Inventors,” T’Challa sighed fondly. “Come on. We were going to show Shuri the plant you found so she can research the chemical composition of it and see which one was the most effective against the fever.”

“Is this normal?” M’Baku asked, bewildered.

“For geniuses? ...Yes,” T’Challa decided after some thought. He smirked at M’Baku smugly. “But if you can’t handle that―”

“I never said I couldn’t handle it,” M’Baku cut in hastily.

“Actually I might not be able to pay for this,” Tony called again.

T’Challa opened his mouth to tell him it was fine.

“I’ll pay for it!” M’Baku called back.

“First of all you don’t know what he broke and second of all I won’t let you,” T’Challa began.

Tony came out of his room a couple minutes later, slightly charred, and looking quite surprised to see them wrestling in the middle of the hall. “Is this something I should be doing?”

T’Challa and M’Baku considered this. On one hand, they hadn’t settled their argument. On the other… Tony.

“Should I challenge Shuri to wrestle?” Tony asked.

“No!” T’Challa and M’Baku barked immediately. He should definitely not to do that. Shuri might accidentally kill him.

.-.-.-.

“Haha,” Shuri said once she’d gotten Tony distracted by magnets.

T’Challa and M’Baku scowled at her. “Don’t laugh at us.”

“Haha,” she said again, unconcerned, and took the plant from M’Baku’s hands. “Haha! You’re both stupid, I don’t know why women think you’re attractive, I’m telling Mother all about this. Did I cover everything?”

“Why don’t you just take a video,” M’Baku mumbled, rolling his eyes.

T’Challa sighed. “She is recording all of the time. I never get away with anything.”

“...All the time?” M’Baku asked.

“Yes, I have video of you being launched across a field by a rhino, and I’m compiling videos of both of you being idiots to show to Tony,” Shuri replied, turning away from them. “Get out of my lab! Tony, I’m going to test this plant for―”

“Oh, I used to juice this when I was dying from heavy metal poisoning,” Tony said guilelessly. “Really extended my life at the time!”

Shuri stared at him for a long moment before cautiously questioning, “Haha? Funny joke?”

“No, I was actually dying at the time,” Tony said, poking at a leaf. “The phytochelatins really helped.”

Shuri heard a wheeze but did not turn. She was certain she’d see T’Challa and M’Baku’s reactions when she went over video tonight to find them being stupid. “That is sad. You make me sad.”

“I make most people sad,” Tony reasoned. “You should hear what Rhodey has to say about me. According to him I’m the saddest person on the planet.”

“I believe him already,” Shuri said. “Come on. We’re going to go blow something up.”

“Okay,” Tony replied, always game to blow something up, and turned to say goodbye. He paused. “...Hmm.”

T’Challa and M’Baku did not look up from where they were learning against each other, dismayed, and muttering under their breaths.

“I’m blowing up T’Challa’s suit,” Shuri decided, and grabbed Tony’s arm to drag him away.

“It’s very high in vitamin C too which helped me protect against colds with my weak immune system,” Tony added.

“Wonderful,” Shuri said, and was only partly sarcastic.

.-.-.-.

“M’Baku gave me a gorilla pelt,” Tony said.

Shuri stared at him and took a long sip from her water bottle.

Tony was silent for a while, just staring into space, before he jumped, seeming to come back to himself. “And T’Challa gave me a necklace with real actual panther teeth.”

Shuri took a longer sip from her water bottle and wished her mother hadn’t banned her from drinking in the lab.

“I can’t take either of these things home with me,” Tony added, bewildered. “I’ve already been sued by PETA once. I can’t take an actual goddamn pelt and necklace made of animal teeth back to America.”

Shuri spewed her water, laughing.

Nakia looked up from the communication device Shuri had recently made for her, something more discreet than what she’d had previously. “Why were you sued by PETA?”

“Because they thought I was promoting a cruel lifestyle after photos of me lying on a bear-skin rug got out,” Tony said. “It was the nineties. I was very drunk.”

Shuri was quickly dissolving into tears. “Photos of you lying on a bear-skin rug!?”

“I was naked. They said I was disrespectful,” Tony continued. “And to be fair! I was. But I was also an idiot teenager and was mostly just trying to disrespect my dad. In any case all that happened was that PETA lost their case and I got invited to lots of weird photo shoots after that.”

Nakia watched Shuri fall to her knees, laughing so hard she no longer even made a sound, then turned to Tony. “Which gift do you like better?”

Tony stared at her, perplexed, and answered, “I know the bear-skin rug thing might be confusing you but I honestly don’t want either of these objects.”

“HAAAAAAAAAhaha,” Shuri shrieked, rolling on to her side.

Nakia walked over and put her hands on Tony’s shoulders. “Tony,” she told him seriously. “Please believe me when I say this: This is the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

“You want me to be arrested,” Tony surmised, although he didn’t look too bothered by it.

“No,” Nakia assured him. “Please wear both these items to dinner.”

“This seems like a mistake,” Tony said.

“Please,” Nakia said again.

“How do I wear a gorilla pelt,” Tony asked. “Also? Shuri might be dying.”

“This is more important,” Nakia promised him.

.-.-.-.

Tony wore both the gorilla pelt and the necklace of panther teeth to dinner.

Queen Ramonda was quiet for approximately fifteen seconds before she daintily wiped her mouth, stood from the table, and left.

Tony watched her go, dismayed. “Oh no.”

“Tony,” Okoye said, not unkindly, and then grabbed his chair and yanked him backward.

Tony let out a startled screech as M’Baku and T’Challa collided in the air where he’d been only seconds before and immediately tried to beat the shit out of each other. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING!”

“This is the best day of my life!” Nakia crowed.

“Okoye do something!” Tony wailed.

Okoye looked amused but also like she was trying as hard as possible not to look amused. “As part of the Dora Milaje, I must stand idly by during fights during only two occasions: During ritual combat for the crown, and during ritual combat for a spouse.”

“You guys said T’Challa already fought for the crown?!” Tony howled, confused.

Both Shuri and Okoye gave him very disappointed looks. Nakia probably would have as well, but she was busy egging M’Baku and T’Challa on.

“They’re fighting over who gets to marry you, Tony,” Shuri finally explained when he began looking more distressed.

Tony stared at her, uncomprehending. “What?”

“M’Baku gave you a gorilla pelt, a very high honor among his people,” Okoye explained. “And we shouldn’t have to explain how important panthers are to ours.”

Tony stared at her as well, then turned toward the grappling pair, face stony.

.-.-.-.

“―And then Tony started beating them with his chair and said they hadn’t even asked him on one date,” Shuri said gleefully, showing her mother the video. “You should have stayed and seen it! It was hilarious!”

Ramonda took a slow sip of her tea as she watched. “I didn’t want to look like I condoned it. Although it looks like Tony had things well in hand; I needn’t have bothered.”

"Yes," Shuri agreed, grinning, as she looked at the video again.

“And what is my son and his romantic rival doing now?”

“Taking Tony out on a date,” Shuri giggled. “They tried to argue that the fight could at least be for the right to take him out first but he started beating them with his chair again and said he wasn’t a prize to be won, he was a human being with feelings. And then he demanded an entire bottle of wine all to himself when he gets back because ‘you two are enough to drive a man to it.’”

“He’s not wrong,” Ramonda decided. “Send him two.”

.-.-.-.

Tony sent them a picture of all three of them wearing socks and sandals on a Hawaiian beach for their anniversary. Shuri laughed until she got the hiccups.


	15. Pepper/Natasha

Bookstore AU

Natasha could tell a lot about people by their taste in books.

A man came in and grabbed trashy romances, and Natasha knew he was imagining the woman of his dreams. A woman came in and picked out a serial mystery novel, and Natasha knew she liked the challenge and the promised happy ending. A child came in asking for books about bats, and Natasha knew the child had picked up on a fact about bats somewhere and was hoping to find out more cool facts. People picked up self-help books, and Natasha knew they were trying, but she also knew that only a handful would succeed.

There had only been one person who she was absolutely mystified by, and it was a woman named Virginia Potts.

Virginia always came in with a cup of coffee that had ‘Tony’ scribbled on it in one hand and a purse worth more than all the books in the shop combined in the other. She’d peruse shelves for about fifteen minutes before picking a book, seemingly at random, and sitting down with it in the cafe. She would flip to different pages in the book, read for a moment, and then flip around again. Finally, if she deemed the book suitable, she would calmly get up, get in line to purchase the book, and then put the book in her purse and leave. If she didn’t like the book, she calmly got up and returned the book to the shelves before she left, pausing only to drop money in the cafe’s tip jar, despite the fact that she never actually ordered from them.

Virginia never stuck to one genre. She’d gone from an adventure novel to a book about astronomy, and then to an atlas focusing on New York state. She never seemed completely enthused about her purchases, either, like somehow she’d been disappointed but also resigned, as if she herself had no idea what she was looking for.

Natasha had seen her pull out her phone while perusing a book and smile, and it was like she had never seen color until that moment―Virginia had stolen her heart and she hadn’t even been looking when it happened.

It was that smile that gave Natasha her wild idea. She’d seen a post online, and she’d thought the idea was cute... and then promptly forgotten about it. But she thought it might have merit, especially if Virginia Potts didn’t actually know what she was searching for. If the idea didn’t work out, she could just pretend it never happened.

So on Monday, bright and early, she set up a card table with a nice tablecloth, a pair of candles, and an empty wine bottle. In the middle of all these, she set a wicker basket padded with pink paper, holding several books wrapped in brown paper, the only inkling of what book they might be a simple heart-shaped tag with the genre and a few tropes and themes. Beside the basket, she put a jaunty sign that simply said ‘Have a blind date with a book!’

.-.-.-.

Blind Date with a Book got off to an… interesting start.

“No, you can’t return the book just because you didn’t like the story,” Natasha said, frustrated. “You bought it without knowing what it was. That’s the entire point. You took the risk. It’s not my fault you didn’t like the book.”

“When I picked out a romance with a side of sci-fi I didn’t think I’d be getting _ The Time Traveler’s Wife_!” the man in front of her exclaimed angrily, waving the book about in front of her, as if he believed that she thought he was lying about what book it was. It wasn’t like she’d wrapped the books herself or anything. “I was expecting something like… like alien sex in space! The themes said there was sex!”

“The author literally said that sex was a central theme to her book,” Natasha began, then gave it up as a lost cause. “I’m sorry it wasn’t smutty enough for you. That’s not my fault. Chalk it up to a bad date and forget about it.”

“I want my money back!” the man insisted again.

Natasha glared at him. “You’re not getting your money back.”

“If you have a bad date with a human woman, do you insist she pay you back the money you spent on her?” a sharp voice cut in.

Natasha felt as if the heavens had opened up and smiled at her. Virginia was next in line. She looked as beautiful and intimidating as ever.

Well. Maybe a little more intimidating now that she looked pissed. Natasha decided this was what an avenging angel looked like. Virginia looked ready to throw her coffee on the guy and then club him over the head with her purse.

“It’s in the footnote on the sign,” Virginia added, annoyed. “‘Only refundable if the book does not match the description. Both book and paper it was wrapped in must be brought back for refund.’ Sorry you’re an idiot who thinks the proprietor would leave wrapped smut next to a wrapped children’s book!”

“But,” the man began.

“You’re in my way,” Virginia said coldly. “Move.”

Natasha knew this was a love she could never escape.

The man opened his mouth again, but Virginia straightened her shoulders, tapping one high and expensive heel at him impatiently. “If I’m late to work,” she said, voice soft but tone dangerous. “I will be very upset. Do you want me to be very upset?”

The man looked like he might say yes, but a shiver went down his spine at the way she looked at him, as if she could rip his guts out and drop them in his hands without getting herself dirty. “No ma’am,” he answered meekly, and skittered out of the store in terror.

Virginia watched him go coldly, then turned toward Natasha with a sweet smile. “Sorry about that! I’m sure you could have handled it, but I really do have a meeting to get to in about fifteen minutes.”

“Hng,” Natasha said, blinded by the light of her friendly expression. She shook herself. “N-no problem. He looked like the type of guy who wouldn’t have left until I threatened to call the police anyway.”

“Yeah,” Virginia agreed, and set her purchase on the counter.

Natasha’s heart flipped over in her chest. She’d grabbed one of the blind dates. She’d chosen a Classic, with themes ‘Intellectual and Moral Education’ and ‘The Hypocrisy of “Civilized” Society.’ She knew it was _ The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn_. It was one of her favorites. She hoped, desperately, that Virginia liked it.

.-.-.-.

Virginia bought three more blind dates, and Natasha wished she had the courage to write her number on one of them.

She almost did, once, but chickened out when she noticed Bucky wiggling his eyebrows at her from the cafe. She hadn’t realized she was that obvious. And if she was that obvious, why hadn’t Virginia said anything? Was Natasha just embarrassing herself? Was she being let down gently? Would writing her number be too much?

So Natasha quietly put her pen back down, handed the book back with a receipt, and smiled as she said, “Hope you enjoy your blind date!”

.-.-.-.

Virginia brought a man into the bookshop with her.

Natasha tried to pretend she wasn’t seethingly jealous and heartbroken, but Bucky set a chocolate croissant down in front of her and told her to stop glaring at customers, so she figured she’d failed pretty spectacularly. So she didn’t try and pretend she wasn’t watching them like a hawk.

Virginia led the man over to the blind date books, and Natasha was pretty certain that the only reason she wasn’t spitting fire was because the man looked so nervous. She’d had the idea for Virginia. She didn’t want Virginia to share it with her boyfriend.

“I have literally never seen a man appear like he’s never set foot in a bookshop before,” Bucky said, taking a bite of the croissant. “This is hilarious.”

“Hey,” Natasha exclaimed, offended. “That’s my croissant!”

“Maybe if you’d started eating it instead of trying to telepathically snap your customers’ necks, you could have actually claimed it was yours,” Bucky replied, unrepentant. “Also be nice. Your beau is coming up to the counter.”

“She’s not my beau,” Natasha hissed as he turned to head back to the cafe. “And you’re fired!”

“Am not,” he answered.

Natasha glared after him.

“Hello, Natasha,” Virginia said cheerfully as she and the man she’d brought with her approached the counter.

“Hello,” Natasha said, trying not to give the man some seriously lethal side-eye. She wasn’t sure she managed it, because he took a step to hide behind Virginia, looking quietly terrified.

“This is my boss, T―” Virginia paused, then turned a little more. “Tony,” she said flatly.

Tony looked like he was seriously considering throwing the book as a distraction and running from the bookshop.

The terrified expression on his face made Natasha feel… a _ smidgen _ of shame. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said, which wasn’t necessarily a lie. It wasn’t his fault she was a jealous loser. He clearly had to have something nice about him if Virginia liked him, after all.

Tony continued to hide behind Pepper even as he mumbled, “Pleasure’s all mine.”

Virginia pursed her lips at him, unimpressed. “We’ve discussed this.”

Tony looked uncertain, but with Virginia staring him down, he seemed to… gather some sort of strength from it. Natasha watched, somewhat awed, as Tony straightened his shoulders and stepped around her to put his book on the counter. “It’s nice to meet you. I’d like to purchase this please,” he said firmly.

Natasha stared at him, bewildered, but Virginia was beaming at them, and she was kind of an idiot in the face of her smile. “Fantasy, huh?” she asked dumbly.

Tony seemed to wilt at that. “Um. Yes?” he answered, unsure.

Natasha blanched. Oh God. Maybe Bucky was right. Maybe Tony had never actually read a goddamn book in his entire life and that’s why he looked so uncomfortable in a bookstore. “This one’s good,” she said hastily. “I pick all of these books very carefully. So far only one person hasn’t liked their blind date.”

“The asshole who thought _ The Time Traveler’s Wife _ wasn’t smutty enough, right?” Tony asked seriously. “I thought it was just smutty enough.”

Natasha blinked at him. “I mean… yeah. The sex was handled really well. It wasn’t forced or anything.”

“Very central to the plot,” Tony agreed. He stared at her for a moment before turning and looking at Virginia, expression hopeful.

“Alright,” she sighed fondly, rolling her eyes. “You had a… somewhat normal interaction with another human being. I’ll buy you a coffee.”

Tony watched her walk over to the cafe and waited until she was talking to Bucky before he turned back around, face serious. “Please for the love of God put me out of my misery and ask Pepper out.”

“Bwah―Pepper?” Natasha asked, bewildered.

“Pepper? My sober companion?” Tony said, nodding his head toward Virginia. “Please ask her out,” he ordered again. “She comes home and gushes about how pretty and clever you are, and how she wishes she was better at telling when other women are gay, because she’s pretty sure you’re dating your main barista.”

“...She thinks I’m clever?” Natasha couldn’t help but ask, because mostly when Virginia (Pepper?) was around she just felt like an idiot.

Tony motioned at the blind date book. “She thought these were a really neat and fun idea. Please. I’m begging you. Please ask Pepper out.”

“Uh,” Natasha said.

“I bought you a mocha,” Virginia said pleasantly as she came back.

Tony took the cup, paused when he saw something written on it, and turned it to read it properly. When he saw it was a phone number, he looked at Virginia in dismay. “Does _everyone_ here want to date you?”

Virginia gaped at him. “What?!”

“I don’t know if I can handle this,” Tony said sadly. “I’ve had to listen to you sigh about Natasha, if I have to listen to you sigh about―” He looked at the phone number again. “―Bucky as well, I don’t know what I’ll do.” He looked up at her, looking heartbroken. “Pepper. Bucky isn’t even a real name.”

“What?!” Virginia choked out again, but Tony just turned, gave Natasha the saddest face ever, and left a fifty on the counter before he took his book and his mocha and left.

“Bucky is too a name!” Bucky exclaimed from the cafe, offended. “And that phone number was for him! Idiot!”

“Thanks for everything Natasha bye,” Virginia said hastily as she took off out the door. Tony had gotten an incredible head start on her by leaving her that gobsmacked.

Natasha watched them go, stunned, and then pulled her emergency flask out from under the register. “Cheers,” she told Bucky, and then drank half the flask in one go. She kind of expected to never see them again.

.-.-.-.

Virginia stomped into the bookstore the next morning, bypassed the shelves of books, and cut the line to come to a stop in front of Natasha. “Listen,” she said hotly.

Natasha glanced between Virginia and line. “Um.”

“_Listen_,” Virginia said again. “Tony’s right! I’m a fucking idiot! I’m a useless lesbian! I don’t know when other women like me! But I will _ not _ allow him to call me a coward!”

“Okay,” Natasha said.

“So we’re going out tomorrow night!” Virginia decided. “I’m taking you someplace fancy so wear a cocktail dress! Also do you have any dietary restrictions?!”

“Cilantro tastes like soap,” Natasha answered.

“I can work with that!” Virginia told her. She snatched up a pen and one of the bookmarks Natasha gave away for free with each book, scribbling her number on it. “Text me and I’ll let you know the details!” She pointed in Natasha’s face. “This is gonna be the best date you’ve ever had,” she informed her sternly, and then turned on her heel and stomped back out of the bookshop.

Natasha stared after her, feeling as if a bomb had just gone off on top of her.

“I wish women would aggressively ask _ me _ out,” the boy at the end of the line mumbled.

“Oh my God I have a date,” Natasha whispered, and crouched down behind the counter, staring at the floor with wide eyes. “Do I even own a cocktail dress?”

Steve sighed and set his broom aside so he could walk around the counter to the other register. “I can help next in line,” he said, exasperated.

“Good luck on your date, sweetie,” the elderly lady told her cheerfully as Steve rang her up.


	16. Tony Stark/Clark Kent

Supernatural AU

Clark had always heard that vampires and werewolves didn’t get along. He’d never seen it in action, of course―there weren’t very many vampires in Kansas, and the werewolves his family knew had only mentioned vampires in passing. Apparently cornfields and country roads didn’t appeal to vampires.

Not that he could say he knew much about vampires after he’d moved to the city, either. The only one he was actually on regular speaking terms with was Bruce, who kept his cards close to his vest even among friends. Clark had once asked if he actually bit people, an awkward stab at humor, and Bruce had just looked at him like he didn’t know what to do with him. He hadn’t answered, and Clark had decided that he probably shouldn’t ask anything else, especially in jest.

So Clark was very surprised when he came to visit Wayne Manor and found a giant wolf limping across the property, rear right leg trailing what looked like a bear trap. It appeared as if it was heading toward the manor. Clark wondered if it knew Bruce, or if it was just going toward the nearest house. He also had an uncharitable thought of whether Bruce had laid the trap, but dismissed it as immediately as it had come; the villains in Gotham were a mixed bag of supernatural creatures, many with mental illnesses, and Bruce was always compassionate when he took them to Arkham Asylum.

Clark drifted down beside the werewolf, concerned. “Can I help you?” he asked.

The werewolf cowered, staring up at him with big, wounded eyes.

“I―I know Bruce,” Clark offered. “If that helps. I can carry you to the manor.”

The werewolf continued to cower, but its ears were no longer pressed back against its skull. It stared at him, considering, then took a halting step toward him. Then it let out a strangled yelp and fell to the ground.

“Hey!” Clark exclaimed, kneeling beside it, hands hovering awkwardly. “Are you okay? Does this mean you want me to carry you?”

The werewolf whined, body still and breath labored as it looked up at him with sad eyes.

“I’ll carry you,” Clark decided, and carefully scooped the wolf into his arms, wincing a little when it whined again. “Sorry. You’re so big, there’s really no comfortable way to do this.”

The werewolf licked his face, as if to show it understood, then went limp in his arms.

“It’s okay,” Clark assured him. “I’ll take care of you.”

.-.-.-.

“You’re late,” Bruce said, opening the door, and then choked out, “Tony!”

“Tony?” Clark asked, but Bruce ignored him, instead slipping his arms under the werewolf and trying to take it from him. “Bruce, no, just tell me where to put him, he’s already so hurt.”

Bruce looked very displeased by this, but he stopped trying to take the werewolf from him. “Kitchen,” he said shortly, and then turned, disappearing from view.

Clark obediently went to the kitchen, surprised to find Alfred already placing a tarp over the large island, and then he immediately wondered why he was surprised. Alfred knew everything that went on in Wayne Manor, often before it even happened.

“Just here, please,” Alfred said, motioning at the island.

“Okay,” Clark said, obediently setting the werewolf down.

Despite his care, the werewolf let out a pained whine, lifting its head to give him betrayed eyes.

“Sorry, sorry,” Clark murmured, wincing.

Alfred stroked his hand down the werewolf’s back. “Rest, Anthony.”

The werewolf whimpered but laid its head back down on the island obediently.

Bruce arrived in the kitchen between one breath and the next, holding a thick canvas bag. “I hate to ask you this, Clark, but can you help me open this trap? It will hurt, and he will cry, but we need to open it up.”

“Of course,” Clark said, offended that he needed to be asked.

Then they were prying the trap apart, and he understood why Bruce had been hesitant to ask. The werewolf thrashed as soon as they started to get one side of the trap’s teeth out of its leg, letting out a horrifying wailing noise. Alfred flung himself across it and the werewolf settled, but it continued to make a horrible moaning sound, even after he and Bruce finally got the other side of the trap off of him.

Clark snapped the trap in half once they’d gotten it removed. Bruce only spared him one grim nod before he opened the bag he’d brought and pulling out a bottle of something that smelled strongly of alcohol and poured it onto a rag.

The werewolf’s noises were softer but somehow more agonized. Clark didn’t know which sounds were worse.

.-.-.-.

Clark stayed overnight, too anxious to leave. If they needed anything, he could leave and be back faster than any of them. Bruce and Alfred didn’t look too upset about it, so he figured they understood.

When he woke up the next morning, it was to the sound of Bruce losing his ever-loving mind.

“What do you  _ mean _ that the trap was on my property?!” Bruce thundered as Clark came rushing down the stairs.

Clark stumbled to a stop when he saw a man sitting on the couch in front of him, looking as small and sad as the werewolf had the night before. He had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, but otherwise appeared to be nude―except for some bandages wrapped around his leg. The same leg that had been wounded on the werewolf.

“I mean that I was trotting over your property line and I just… stepped in it,” the man said.

“I don’t know who would dare, Tony, but rest assured, when I find out who did… they will not do it again,” Bruce told him firmly.

The man stared up at him, and Clark had to marvel at how small he looked when just yesterday he’s been so large. “Okay, Bruce,” he said softly. Then his eyes caught sight of Clark, and his face brightened. “Oh! Bruce, it’s my hero!”

“Your what,” Bruce repeated blankly, turning to see what he was looking at. He immediately looked unimpressed. “Oh. You.”

“Wow!” Clark exclaimed, but he wasn’t actually too offended. Clark liked to think he was a pretty humble, down-to-earth guy―and then Bruce said something like this and he realized perhaps his head was on the verge of growing a little too big. He turned his attention to the other man instead, concerned. “How are you doing?”

“Better now, thanks to you,” the man chirped. “I probably wouldn’t have made it on my own. They’d dusted the trap with wolf’s bane. Not enough that I would have died,” he added hastily when Clark blanched. “Just enough that I had to slow down. Probably so they could capture rather than kill, so there’s… that…?”

“Tony,” Bruce said, looking pissed off and, if Clark looked a little closer, slightly pained.

The man, Tony, looked up at him guilelessly. “Everything turned out fine.”

“You can’t just―” Bruce began, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting it back out in a long, slow sigh. He opened his eyes again, managing only to look a little frustrated. “Please don’t downplay what happened to you.”

“But I’m fine,” Tony said again, and then looked back at Clark. He began struggling to his feet. “I wanted to thank you―”

Clark walked over to the couch to save him the trouble, gently pushing him back down in his seat. “It was no trouble. You needed help and I was able to.”

Tony blinked up at him with that same guileless expression he’d just given Bruce. “It’s kind of a big deal,” he said after a moment.

Clark stared at him, unable to comprehend. He had no idea how it could be. Someone needed help, you helped them. The werewolves a couple farms over hadn’t had problems calling him and his parents for help when one of them was sick or one of the cows got out, after all.

“Tony doesn’t have what you’d call…” Bruce struggled for a word. “A ‘traditional’ pack. It’s basically just a bunch of orphaned wolves that found each other. Which is fine,” he added firmly when Tony’s shoulders drooped. “I’m a proponent of making your own family after all. But there are some… beings… who think that a pack of unrelated werewolves is unnatural and something to sneer at. Especially in a city where your territory basically ends at your front door.”

“Oh,” Clark said, voice small.

He’d thought it was would be the opposite―with more werewolves packed together, they’d be closer than the werewolves spread out in the countryside. But it made sense, now that he thought about it; the Johnsons and Wilkinsons had been friendly enough, but they’d also had large properties to themselves that they did a pretty good job of not crossing the boundaries to. It must have been stressful, living in the city and toe-to-toe with other werewolves, no time to take a step back and breathe, take a break from each other.

“I see,” Clark said, and would remember that in future situations with werewolves.

“And since it’s a big deal, I thought maybe you’d let me take you out to dinner,” Tony said hopefully.

Clark blinked at him. “Oh! That’s not really―I mean, I certainly don’t mind, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to!”

“I want to!” Tony assured hurriedly.

Bruce looked back and forth between them, then threw his hands up and walked away, rolling his eyes. “Unbelievable.”

Clark stared after him, but Tony didn’t pay him any mind. “Don’t worry,” Tony said, smiling up at him. “I really, truly want to treat you to dinner for helping me.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” Clark replied, turning back to him. He held his hand out to him. “We didn’t really get a chance to introduce ourselves yesterday. I’m Clark.”

“Tony,” Tony offered, grabbing his hand and pulling it up so he could nose at his wrist.

“Uh,” Clark said, surprised, but remembered belatedly that some older werewolves did that to scent people they wanted to get to know more. Grandma and Grandpa Wilkinson had talked about how they’d done it when they’d first met. Perhaps Tony’s parents had been from that older generation. “I wish we’d met under better circumstances.”

Tony snorted, breath puffing out soft and hot against his wrist. “You and me both.” He leaned back, looking up at him. “Do you like burgers? I could eat a burger.”

Clark was relieved that Tony didn’t want to take him someplace expensive. Bruce had taken him to a steakhouse where their order had been nearly as much as his rent payment. He could do something simple like burgers. Hell, maybe Tony would let him pitch in for dessert. “Yeah, burgers are fine.”

“Great!” Tony said, bouncing to his feet, and then let out a pained noise and began crumpling to the ground. “Oh!”

Clark caught him and eased him back down onto the couch. “Easy. I’m not going anywhere. Besides, I usually eat my burgers later in the day.”

“Sorry,” Tony mumbled, chagrined, as Clark fixed the blanket around his shoulders again. “I got excited.”

Clark smiled at him. “I see. I’m flattered.”

Tony swallowed thickly and turned an adorable shade of pink. Clark continued to smile. He hoped that he and Tony would be very good friends.

.-.-.-.

“You know he’s actually courting you, right?” Bruce asked a few weeks later, just before a Justice League meeting.

Clark whipped around, wide-eyed. “What?!”

“Werewolves only sniff an intimate place like your wrist if they want to be intimately close to you, Clark,” Bruce deadpanned after a moment of staring at him. “Your pulse was next to his mouth, which a lot of people would consider intimidating. But it also puts a werewolf in a vulnerable position because it’s so easy to attack their face if you don’t appreciate the attention.”

Clark gaped at him, speechless.

Bruce continued to stare at him for another moment before he leaned in close and whispered, “Think very carefully about your next move, Clark, because Tony is one of my oldest friends and if you hurt him I will be very, very protective of him.” He leaned back, patted Clark on the shoulder, and walked into the meeting room.

Clark squeaked softly. No wonder Tony had kissed his cheek after dinner last night. He'd thought Tony was just being friendly, but―Tony thought he was kissing his boyfriend. Or someone who would soon become his boyfriend. Oh God. And he’d promised Tony he’d come see him in Manhattan after this meeting was over.

He’d been dating Tony for three weeks without knowing it. He got the feeling that no one was ever going to live this down, least of all Bruce. He’d be more upset if he didn’t know he deserved it.


	17. Thor/Tony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tabletop gaming is still gaming right? (This is a facetious question. Of course it’s gaming.) Also forgive how awful this is I could not find a graceful way to shove them together.

Gamer AU

Thor had found the videos mostly by accident.

He’d been playing around on Bucky’s smart TV while he, Steve, and Natasha bickered over whether salsa was technically a soup or not and had found his way onto YouTube while he was fiddling with the volume buttons. He hadn’t been surprised about the content he’d found, of course―both Bucky and Natasha were huge nerds, and Steve could usually be dragged along without too much issue. The video history was a bunch of videos about space and reviews on old sci-fi movies and shows, and there was also one of a children’s video with the most irritating song that he’d ever heard. He assumed they played it whenever they were mad at each other.

And then his eyes had paused on a video titled ‘My Mentor Plays D&D’ and, well, he was curious, because he hadn’t known that that was what his friends were into, and he wondered what it was about beyond the title.

“Welcome back to another episode of Mump Daddy,” a girl was saying as it began. She looked about sixteen.

“Don’t call it that,” a boy around the same age said, looking pained.

“I think it’s funny,” another boy said. “What about you, Mr. Stark?”

The man at the end of the table, the only adult, was bent over several sheets of paper, looking completely bewildered and somewhat panicky. “Am I the wizard in this one or the tiefling?”

“You’re the wizard,” the first boy said gently. “We finished the one-shot with the tiefling last session. That’s why it was a one-shot.”

“Did we win?” the man asked.

The kids were silent for a few moments before the girl said, “Well, we rescued the princess, so. Sure.”

The man clapped his hands together. “Hooray!”

A bubble popped up saying ‘nobody remind him we had to murder her entire family to save her’ at the bottom of the screen as the kids smiled strained smiles.

Thor stared, bewildered and somewhat charmed.

“No, you have to start from the beginning,” Natasha said, flopping backwards over the couch. She snatched the remote from his hands. “This is my friend Tony, the one I keep telling you guys about? His friend asked him for help after her husband died because she was afraid her nephew was struggling and needed a male figure in his life, and they started with a game night with his friends so Peter could feel supported, and then his friend Ned wanted to try leading a  _ Dungeons and Dragons _ campaign and they all knew it would be a disaster since it would be their first time and they wanted to commemorate it, and… well… the internet loved them.” She pointed. “That one’s Peter, that one’s Ned, and the girl is M.J., who I’m pretty sure just does the videos because she likes to make Tony uncomfortable.”

“Okay-okay-okay,” Ned was saying as soon as the video loaded. “So, George, you find yourself in a gay bar―”

“And I’m George,” the man, Tony apparently, said, looking confused.

“Yes,” Ned explained patiently. “And you’re a bard. So, you find yourself in a gay bar. You don’t have any money, but you notice that there’s an open mic.”

“Didn’t I come in to see if I could bribe the owner for information?” Tony asked, frowning.

“You did,” Ned confirmed. “But how are you going to do that if you have no money?”

Tony stared at him for several minutes before he said, “I’m a bard, right? Can I seduce the entire bar?”

The children stared at him, stunned, before M.J. turned and said, “Let him seduce everyone.”

“Okay,” Ned said.

“I go up to the mic.”

“Everyone stops what they’re doing to look at you,” Ned said.

Tony squinted at his character sheet. “It’s a gay bar right? I sing  _ Somewhere Over the Rainbow _ .”

The children burst out laughing, but Ned rallied quickly. “Alright, roll your dice.”

Tony rolled his dice. “I got twelve.”

Ned paged through his papers, examined his book, then said, “The crowd loves your song. They clap.”

Tony looked offended by this. “They only clap?!”

“Someone calls for an encore,” Ned allowed.

Tony huffed. “I will sing an encore. I am going to sing  _ It’s Raining Men _ .”

“You need to roll your dice,” Peter reminded him.

Tony rolled his dice. “I got a twenty.”

The children collectively lost their minds.

Tony looked back and forth between all of them. “Is that good? Is that bad? You did the same thing when I rolled a one and walked off a cliff.”

Ned quickly got hold of himself. “The crowd goes wild. Two men beg you to marry them. They’re throwing gold at your feet. The owner of the bar offers you all the information you want.”

“I gather the gold,” Tony said, and rolled his dice again. “Oh. I got a two.”

“You go for the gold and fall ass over teakettle and hear someone call you a dumb twink,” Ned replied. “Someone slaps your butt and offers to be your sugar daddy since you’re clearly useless.”

“WHERE DID YOU LEARN THOSE WORDS AUNT MAY IS GONNA KILL ME,” Tony howled, and then camera cut out.  A few seconds of blackness followed before it came back on, Tony looking mulish.

“I finish picking up Mr. Stark’s gold,” Peter said, and rolled his dice. “I got ten.”

“You pick up most of the gold and hand it to Mr. Stark. Lots of people give you the side-eye.”

“I tell the owner of the bar that he can have Tony if he gives us the guy we’re after,” M.J. said.

Tony looked betrayed. “Hey!”

“It’s fine, we’ll rescue you before anything can happen to you,” M.J. assured him.

They did not rescue Tony before anything could happen to him and Tony got a shiny new harem after three more good rolls. They took the man they’d been chasing to the sheriff who promptly hung him for crimes against the crown.

“Did we win?” Tony asked at the end of the game.

The children stared at him, and then Ned smiled and said, “Yeah, Mr. Stark. We got the bad guy.”

A bubble popped up at the bottom of the screen saying, ‘Nobody tell Mr. Stark that the point of D&D isn’t to win.’

“I love him,” Thor said.

“Yeah, it’s kind of hard not to love him,” Natasha agreed fondly. “People think he’s playing this up but actually? He didn’t understand this game at all. I guess his mom was really religious and banned playing it when he was a kid.” She smiled. “But he’s getting the hang of it. I think it helps that the majority of the audience has been incredibly kind about him learning.”

“That’s sweet,” Thor said, and then, “Did you guys decide whether salsa is a soup or not?”

“It’s a condiment,” Natasha replied immediately.

“NOT IF YOU EAT IT OUT OF THE CARTON WITH A SPOON!” Steve insisted.

Thor tipped his head to look over the back of the couch at him. “You’ve eaten salsa with a spoon? Just straight?”

“I mean… it was pico de gallo but yeah,” Steve admitted under his incredulous stare.

“It’s not a soup, Steve,” Thor told him, not unkindly.

“HA!” Natasha and Bucky shouted, pointing at Steve, as he finally sagged in defeat.

.-.-.-.

Thor went home and watched a few more videos, charmed. For what Tony lacked in experience and understanding, he made up for it in enthusiasm. He was willing to learn, to be nudged in the right direction and, when that didn’t work, unoffended when he was corrected entirely. The kids took turns running campaigns, and Tony threw himself into them regardless of whose turn it was, showing no favoritism whatsoever. (Thor kind of agreed with Natasha, though; M.J. clearly went out of her way to put Tony in wacky situations that he had no idea how to handle.)

And it never got tedious―the stories were short, so the videos only lasted an hour or two, and they were interspersed with ‘viewers’ choice’ videos, where viewers voted on a video game for Tony to try.

“I can’t believe you have every console known to man and haven’t even taken some out of the box,” Peter complained.

Tony squinted at the back of a video game, one of the runners up that they’d play at a later date. “So take some home and play them? Except leave the XBox here. Clint likes to come over and play Minecraft.”

“You have consoles older than us. You have a  _ Magnavox _ ,” Ned breathed, wondering. “Does the SuperNintendo still work?”

“Eh,” Tony offered, shrugging a little. “I have to reset the cartridges a little more regularly but I’ve taken really good care of it.”

Thor recognized the game the viewers had chosen. He remembered playing it as a kid, remembered helping Loki whenever he got to parts that were too hard for him. It made something in his chest ache as he watched Tony put the cartridge into the Nintendo64. It was a good ache, though; it reminded him of better times.

“That’s a really big tree,” Tony commented as the game started.

“You seriously never played this game when you were a kid?” M.J. asked in disbelief.

“It came out in ‘98,” Tony said, rolling his eyes. “I was almost thirty. I was running a company. I didn’t have time to play games.”

“Sometimes I forget how old you are,” Ned said after a moment, but was so distracted by the story developing on the screen that he didn’t see Tony’s disgruntled scowl at him.

Thor enjoyed the nostalgia the video brought him as Tony slowly played his way through the game.

And then he laughed so hard he snorted his beer out his nose when Tony said, “Uh, this is Zelda? I thought  _ I _ was Zelda…”

“Mr. Stark why did you think everyone was calling you ‘Link?!’” Peter sputtered. "How could you ever think you were Zelda!?"

Tony stared at the screen for several minutes before he whispered, “Because I’m the one collecting the three spiritual stones and she’s not so why wouldn’t it be the legend of me.”

“Oh boy,” M.J. said, delighted. “Oh boy. Side-channel alert! We’re eventually getting Mr. Stark to play  _ all _ of the Zelda games!”

“Do I play as Zelda in any of those games?” Tony asked, and the kids laughed at him.

.-.-.-.

“Alright, you losers are juniors now, it’s my turn to run a campaign,” Tony said in the next video.

Thor sat up a little. Tony had never made any sort of indication he wanted to lead a game. He wondered what it would be about.

“It’s called ‘picking what college you want to apply to you’re giving me ulcers,’” he announced. The kids groaned, and he talked over them loudly. “I’ve made character sheets for you! You’re welcome.”

“Wow, you gave me a lot of charisma,” Ned observed, flattered.

“You also have a magic hat that gives you extra wisdom,” Tony added, smug.

Peter frowned at his character sheet. “Why is my constitution high and my intelligence so low?”

“Maybe because last week you dry swallowed a handful of Mentos, chugged a liter of Coke, and didn’t die,” M.J. deadpanned.

“That is exactly why,” Tony replied, just as nonplussed. “On the bright side, you get your dexterity up and you’ll be everyone’s favorite at beer pong.” His eyes widened, and he looked at the camera frantically. “Not that he’ll be playing beer pong in college! He will only go to class and do homework. He won’t even look at another human being.”

“Aunt May hasn’t watched this ever since Ned called you a twink and she choked on her wine laughing,” Peter said, scratching at his head.

“Hey, you gave M.J. more points than you gave us!” Ned whined, glancing at her character sheet. “And she’s got great points across the board! Or, well, no. I’ve got a higher charisma,” he added smugly.

“That’s because Michelle is about as friendly as a brick to the face,” Tony explained.

M.J. finally looked up from her character sheet. “This is a choice.”

“It’s reflected in your charisma points,” Tony informed her.

She shrugged, conceding.

“Also the dean at every school is a minor boss so you have to defeat them,” Tony added, looking back down at the list of colleges he’d accumulated. “Pick which colleges you want to visit to tour wisely because I’ve made backstories up for all of them and some are worse than others.”

“...Are the deans based off actual people?” Peter asked, squinting at him.

“What? No,” Tony scoffed, looking back at his college sheet. “Except for that they all are and I asked all of them if it was okay and only one said no and I hate him. I’m not sorry I put his car on the roof of the social studies department.”

“You put his car on a roof?!” the kids exclaimed.

Tony lifted his head, staring into space, then said, “I don't know if the statute of limitations has passed so I can neither confirm nor deny.”

Thor laughed out loud.

.-.-.-.

  
Thor had sort of…  _ forgotten _ that Tony was Natasha’s friend.

“Everyone, this is Tony!” Natasha said proudly.

Tony looked startled, clutching the bottle of wine he’d brought to his chest.

“Hello, Tony,” they all replied dutifully when Natasha narrowed her eyes at them.

“That’s creepy, I’m leaving,” Tony said immediately.

Bucky stood hastily. “That’s just Natasha, she made us be creepy, let me crack open that bottle of wine, huh?” he said, snatching the bottle of wine from his hands and hurrying over to the kitchenette.

Tony stared after him, speechless.

“It’s true, I make them be nice to everyone when it’s their first time here,” Natasha replied, unbothered, and then shunted him further into the room and closed the door. Her fingers hesitated on the lock, but she eventually decided that was too creepy, even for her. She began over to the kitchenette to grab glasses for the wine “Sit on the couch. Thor doesn’t bite.”

“Unless you ask me nicely,” Thor offered, smirking. Then he added a quick, only somewhat unimpressed, “I’m joking,” when Tony hesitated.

Tony looked shell-shocked as he delicately sat on the edge of the couch, eyes darting around the room anxiously. Thor couldn’t really blame him.

The Barnes-Romanoff home was a madhouse even on nights they  _ weren’t _ having dinner parties. Steve was a loud roommate in general, but with Sam and Sharon, he somehow got even more boisterous, shouting and laughing. Sam and Sharon responded in kind, making even more raucous noise than before. Bucky was usually minding the kitchenette, minding his own business and taking a moment to himself to calm down from the loudness, but dinner was just finishing off in the oven and everything else was put together, so he’d taken the chance to sit down and enjoy the conversation, jeering them on as they tried to one-up each other with raunchy jokes. It was a lot to walk into if you weren’t expecting it.

“So,” Thor said. “I’m Thor.”

“That’s a name,” Tony offered after a moment.

Thor was not offended. He got that reaction a lot whenever he introduced himself. “I’ve been watching your videos with your mentees. They’re very entertaining.”

“Oh,” Tony said, and then blushed a little and repeated, “Oh!”

“I liked the campaign you led, where you helped them to pick out colleges,” Thor said. “It was ingenious. You clearly put a lot of work into it. I was very impressed. I just have one question,” Thor added.

Tony blinked up at him, looking nervous but also cautiously optimistic. “Yes?”

Thor leaned in as if to whisper a secret, and he was delighted when Tony responded in kind, tilting his head accommodatingly. “Did you really put the dean of M.I.T.’s car on the roof of the social studies department?” Thor asked quietly. “I promise I won’t go to the police.”

Tony jerked back, eyes wide in shock, but then his lips spread into a wide smile before he began to laugh.

Thor basked in it. He got the feeling that Tony didn’t laugh as much as he should.

“Hey, hey, that must have been a good joke,” Sam cut in.

Steve turned toward them as well. “Yeah, let us in on it!”

Tony looked alarmed as he came down from his laughter.

“It’s alright,” Thor promised him. “Steve is a criminal.”

“What,” Tony gasped.

“I’m not a criminal!” Steve said, affronted.

Thor shrugged. “Eeeeh…”

Bucky spewed his wine all over Natasha. She turned and stared him down, but the intention to intimidate him was lost when he immediately crumpled to the ground, laughing hysterically.

“You’re a criminal, Steve,” Sharon told him, not unkindly. “Your list of misdemeanors is as tall as I am.”

“Just a small time criminal,” Steve mumbled to himself. “Maybe if people stopped being idiots and assholes I wouldn’t have to fight them.”

Sam turned to give him the most appalled expression Thor had ever seen. And he grew up with Loki.

Thor turned back to Tony. “How did you even get a car onto a roof, anyway?”

“Well, I didn’t say I’d done it,” Tony began imperiously, apparently gaining courage from the fact that Steve got in trouble with the law all the time and everyone apparently still liked him. “But if someone was to do it, they’d probably dismantle the car with several friends from the engineering department and then put it back together on the roof.”

“Impressive,” Thor repeated, and took the chance to slide his arm around Tony’s back when he relaxed a little.

Tony looked up at him in surprise, appeared to think about it, then settled against him, looking quite pleased with himself.

“Looks like you rolled a nat twenty in seducing Tony,” Natasha commented around her glass of wine, trying very hard to be coy except that she was clearly smirking behind the glass.

“What can I say, his charisma was off the charts,” Tony replied, somehow even more self-satisfied than before.

Thor laughed and tugged him a little closer. Tony was adorable in his videos. He couldn’t wait to get to know Tony in real life.


	18. Sam Wilson/Sharon Carter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I made this a Stripper AU as well somehow.

Bartender AU

“Oh fuck,” Sam said.

Steve looked up from wiping down the bar. “What? That group at table three spill their pitcher again?”

“Worse,” Sam replied, looking pained. “Can you just strangle me with that towel?”

“Huh?” Steve asked, and looked toward the door. Then he grinned like a cat who had eaten the canary  _ and _ managed to get a bowl of cream out of it. “Oh. Ohoho.”

“Shut up,” Sam said, glaring at him.

Steve pointed at him and laughed.

“What’s going on?” Bucky asked, peering through the window to the kitchen. “What’s happening? Did the group at table three spill their pitcher again?”

“The pretty blonde girl that Sam has the biggest crush on is here,” Steve answered smugly.

“I hope you both die,” Sam said as they both began to laugh at him. “She’s not coming up to the bar. Why isn’t she coming up to the bar?”

“Maybe she remembers last week when she ordered a beer and you asked if she’d rather have a sex on the beach,” Bucky chortled.

Sam stopped where he stood, staring into space. He’d hoped to block that out. He’d only asked her that because she’d previously had a Malibu cocktail and he’d wanted to offer her something similar, not realizing until after he’d said it that it had really sounded like a come-on. She’d sort of laughed but then softly insisted on her microbrew and Sam had left at the end of the night, gone home, and gotten absolutely plastered, hoping to block out the night. Unfortunately, as a bartender, he could hold his liquor and he mostly just woke up still drunk and even more embarrassed.

“Maybe she’s waiting for a friend,” Steve offered after a moment, smile fading.

“Yeah, or maybe she’s trying to decide if she wants to eat,” Bucky added.

“She’s not looking at the menu,” Sam said.

“You don’t have to look at a menu to decide whether you’re hungry or not, Sam,” Bucky told him snidely.

“Listen,” Sam began, scowling at him, but then whipped around when he heard a squeal. “Oh,” he said sadly. “Looks like she  _ was _ waiting for someone.”

The pretty blonde had popped up out of her booth and was hugging a man who had just come in the door. Sam wished the guy was ugly or something. It would have made the hurt more bearable. As it was, the guy was ridiculously handsome, and the pretty blonde buried her nose in his shoulder and sighed like all was right with the world.

Oh God. Was that guy here to beat him up after he hit on his girlfriend? Would he believe it was an accident and he was only trying to help?

“You could take ‘im,” Steve muttered.

“I mean,” Sam said after a minute. “Those thighs are pretty impressive. If he’s anything like Natasha, he could snap my neck with no effort.”

“Thighs?!” Bucky sputtered, peering through the window frantically.

Steve turned to give him a perplexed stare. “You’re an ass man.”

“I have depths,” Bucky informed him imperiously. “Also thighs are just an extension of ass get the fuck outta my way so I can see.”

“Well they’re coming up to the bar so you can’t see his thighs anyway,” Sam retorted. If the pretty blonde had a boyfriend, he could at least find joy in razzing Bucky.

“Hi,” the pretty blonde said, smiling at him.

“Hi,” Sam sighed, like the lovesick dope he was. If the pretty blonde’s boyfriend killed him, he’d probably deserve it.

He only realized they’d just been standing there, smiling at each other, for a few minutes when the pretty blonde’s boyfriend murmured, “Um… I, uh… my lunch isn’t that long…”

“Oh!” the pretty blonde gasped. “Oh, sorry!”

“You work closing shift, man?” Sam had to ask sympathetically. The guy looked exhausted, and also like he could use three giant hamburgers. “That sucks.”

“Are there day strip clubs?” the pretty blonde asked wonderingly.

“None that I would work at,” her boyfriend said.

Sam gave the guy another once-over. Oh. A stripper. No wonder he… looked like that.

“Anyway!” the pretty blonde said. “Could I get a couple cheeseburgers with… everything on them, and an oatmeal stout?” She bit her bottom lip, then leaned in and quietly added, “And maybe… a sex on the beach?”

Sam stared at her, stunned.

She swallowed thickly, then fluttered her lashes at him. It was very attractive.

“You’re really gonna flirt with him in front of your boyfriend?!” Steve asked, offended.

She jerked to look at him, startled. “Huh? What do you―my boyfriend…” She jerked backward again, surprise quickly changing to disgust. “Ew! Tony’s my cousin! Gross! And do you really think I’m the type of person who would do that?! What an asshole!”

“Can I still eat here,” Tony asked Sam desperately as she and Steve began shouting at each other. “I’m not yelling at your coworker like Sharon is.”

“Of course you can eat here,” Sam said, pain in his chest immediately fading. He thought he should probably stop Steve and―Sharon?―from arguing, but she looked like she could take him, and Steve probably needed his ass beat honestly. “Have a seat.”

“Thanks,” Tony said, sitting at the bar. “I’m working at both my jobs today and I wouldn’t have had time to eat until after work at the club. Sharon said your food was really good and also she wanted moral support when she flirted with you because last time you gave her an opening and she panicked.”

Sam stared at him. “...I mean, to be fair, my opening was unplanned and sort of risque.”

“But Sharon loves sex on the beach,” Tony said, frowning.

“The drink,” Sharon said hastily, lunging back into the conversation. “I love the  _ drink _ called sex on the beach.”

Sam stared at her. “Wait, so you actually liked that joke?”

“Yeah but I panicked,” she explained. “And I remembered being a barista and not liking my customers flirting with me and I panicked even more because what if I was doing that to you?”

“I flirted with you first,” Sam pointed out.

“She’s dumb when she panics,” Tony offered.

Sharon slouched on the bar, looking incredibly sorry for herself. “It’s true I’m so dumb. I overthink things. And now I’m never gonna have a chance with you.”

Sam was bewildered. He was pretty sure he’d been incredibly obvious about still being interested. “Why?”

“Because I’m meeting Steve in the back alley during his break so we can fight,” she said sadly, then shot Steve a dirty look.

Sam glanced at Steve, who looked just as mulish. He looked back at Sharon. “I mean. He’s been needing his ass kicked for at least a couple weeks now.”

“Hey!” Steve exclaimed, offended.

Sharon seemed to consider this. Finally, she slowly asked, “...If I win, do we get to date? Is this a  _ Scott Pilgrim vs. The World _ type thing?”

Sam thought about it for a minute before saying, “Sure. If you kick Steve’s ass, I’ll take you out on a date.”

Sharon whipped around to glare at Steve, who glared back, and Sam only seriously considered that that might have been a mistake in that very moment.

Before he could say anything, Bucky was ringing the bell in the window and setting down two plates, because they were always slower toward the early morning on a Wednesday night and had heard Sharon make the order. “I have two burgers with everything on them and―Bambi!” Bucky gasped.

Tony stared at him blankly, then suddenly pointed at him and squawked, “Good tipper!”

Sam put the grave mistake he’d made on the back burner immediately, gleeful. “You guys know each other?”

“He stuck a twenty in my panties!” Tony said happily.

Bucky looked moderately pained, but only because Steve had turned from glaring at Sharon to grin at him like an asshole. “He flipped himself upside-down on the pole and spread his legs, what the fuck else was I supposed to do.”

“I worked very hard to learn how to do that without falling on my head,” Tony said proudly. “I only concussed myself twice!”

“...Tony,” Sharon said softly when the trio all turned to stare at him in horrified disbelief. “You can’t brag about concussions. We’ve talked about this.”

“It only happened twice,” Tony mumbled, pouting, and stuffed three fries into his mouth at once.

Sam decided to just get him his oatmeal stout and then start mixing up a sex on the beach. He tried not to look to smitten as he handed it over to her, but Steve smirked at him the same way he’d just smirked at Bucky, so he figured it didn’t work.

.-.-.-.

Sharon kicked Steve’s ass from one side of the alley to the other, so Sam took her to the fanciest restaurant he could afford.


	19. Bruce/Tony/Thor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With bonus College AU and Tony Already Built His Malibu Mansion At The Age of Twenty-Two AU. I assume he did it for a thesis about architecture and the environment.

Road Trip AU

Thor paused as he walked into his dorm and found Bruce and Tony bent over a map. To his knowledge, Bruce and Tony had never touched a paper map in their lives. In fact, Tony had made loud noises about how inconvenient paper maps were. This didn’t bode well. “What are you doing?”

“We were going to make the trip to California a road trip and hit all the cool science places,” Bruce explained, looking up from the map. “But then we found out we can hit more haunted places in a straight line than science places.”

Thor stared at him. “You and Tony don’t believe in ghosts.”

“Well, no,” Bruce agreed thoughtfully. “But Tony wants to start in Salem and I like lobster rolls.”

“Why does Tony want to go to haunted towns?” Thor asked.

“Tony! Has a voice of his own!” Tony exclaimed, offended. “And! Because I’m petty. I can’t just say I want to send a picture of me flipping off the camera in front of the House of the Seven Gables to Steve because he’s a literature nerd and still mad that I haven’t read  _ The Scarlet Letter _ . If I go on an entire road trip, Steve can’t accuse me of being an asshole specifically for this.”

“It’s boring as fuck, you wouldn’t like it,” Thor told him. “I gave up three chapters in. I thought we were going to fly?”

“It’s cheaper to drive Dum-E to California than ship him,” Tony mumbled, looking supremely put out.

Thor wasn’t surprised. Dum-E weighed a metric fuck-ton. He wasn’t going to tell him that though. “Where are we going?”

“We’re starting in Salem and going straight across the country,” Bruce said. “I’m excited to take Tony through Iowa. Large expanses of corn fields scare him.”

Thor was certain that they would unnerve him as well, considering he’d never seen one. That might actually be the scariest part of their ‘haunted road trip.’ “You haven’t packed anything,” he said instead. “And we leave tomorrow.”

“Fuck!” Bruce and Tony exclaimed, and began scrambling around the room.

.-.-.-.

Bruce bought all three of them witches’ hats for the pictures in Salem. Tony bought all three of them lobster rolls.

Thor carried the bags of souvenirs because he wasn’t as invested. He also carried the selfie stick so that Tony and Bruce would stop whacking each other with it whenever they held it. He’d never imagined he would ever become the voice of reason in a relationship, romantic or otherwise; he could admit he was pretty brash and didn’t think before doing something stupid.

And then he’d watched Tony say, “I wonder if this will explode if I do this,” and the project had. Bruce, covered in soot, had cheered. And it was in that moment that Thor realized these two geniuses would die without supervision.

It was okay though. He also got to supervise them in bed.

“We have to take at least one picture not flipping the camera off so I can put it on my Instagram,” Thor said.

“Boo!” Bruce and Tony whined.

Thor stared at them. “...My family Instagram.”

“Oh,” they said, and then Tony continued, “I love your mom. She is so nice.”

“Your dad’s okay too,” Bruce added. “Out of the three of us, you definitely have the best dad.”

“You’ve got a really weird little brother though,” Tony mumbled to himself.

Thor opened his mouth, then closed it. Yeah, Loki was pretty weird. He was growing out of some of it, though.

.-.-.-.

They went to the Moundsville Penitentiary. Tony and Bruce had signed up to participate in an ‘Escape the Pen’ game.

“I’m going on the tour so I can take pictures for Loki,” Thor said. “But you two have fun.” He tried to show he really wanted them to have fun.

“Oh,” Tony said, looking disappointed. “We can come back and do the game some other time.”

Bruce looked torn. “It’s not like it’s that far from school,” he offered after a minute. “We could come during a long weekend―”

“No,” Thor told them sternly. “Go do your game. Have fun. Just because I don’t want to do something doesn’t mean you two can’t do it. We don’t have to be joined at the hip, okay? If you get out before me, I’ll meet you at the gift shop. Or you can go check out the burial mound across the street.”

Bruce and Tony both looked unsure. “Well…”

“I’m literally just going to get a picture of the electric chair,” Thor deadpanned. “Please go have fun in your escape room. Remember, I’ve got to take pictures since this road trip is eating up into my actually going home. You can’t take pictures in the escape room.”

“Oh,” Tony said. “Well… if you’re sure…”

Thor smiled and grabbed his shoulder to tow him in for a kiss on the forehead. “I’m sure.” He turned and pressed a kiss to Bruce’s forehead too, just to be fair. “Go. Have fun. I left granola bars in the car if you get hungry while you wait for me.”

They waited for him so that they could go get chili and slaw dogs instead. Thor smiled as they chattered on about how cool the escape room had been but they’d personally dumbed themselves down so that the little kids could think they solved the puzzles. He didn’t know why people kept insisting that Bruce and Tony were arrogant; truly arrogant people would never have let children take credit for their actions, he thought.

.-.-.-.

Tony sprang for them to stay at the Stanley Hotel. He said it was where Stephen King had gotten the inspiration for  _ The Shining _ .

“The paranormal activity didn’t start until  _ after _ the movie came out,” Bruce tried to point out.

“The Rockies,” Tony exclaimed, motioning wildly at the window, which did show a very breathtaking, expansive view of the Rocky Mountains.

Thor looked at the room-service menu. “...How much did you say this room was?”

Tony snatched the menu from his hands and hid it.

The truly haunting thing, Bruce and Thor decided, was how absolutely expensive everything was―and how willing Tony was to pay for them without even glancing at the price.

.-.-.-.

Thor jolted awake to the sound of ballroom music. “What the fuck,” he swore softly.

“You hear it, too?” Bruce whispered.

Thor jerked to look at him. “How long have you been awake?!”

“Since the music started ten minutes ago,” Bruce answered softly.

“Let’s just go back to sleep,” Thor suggested. “It’s probably just Tony playing a prank.”

Bruce glanced down at Tony, who was curled up against his chest and drooling into his shirt, then looked back up at Thor, raising his eyebrows.

“We are never telling Tony that he slept through a paranormal experience,” Thor said firmly.

“He probably wouldn’t believe us anyway,” Bruce agreed, frowning.

.-.-.-.

“We are  _ not _ stopping at a brothel,” Bruce said sternly.

“But it’s haunted!” Tony whined.

“I’m not taking Instagram photos for my family at a brothel,” Thor said, agreeing with Bruce.

Tony pouted, crossing his arms as he sank in his seat. “But it’s haunted…”

“We already stopped at Bonnie Springs Ranch,” Thor reasoned. “And it’s already going to be a long drive to the Winchester House.”

Tony sighed. “You guys are ganging up on me,” he mumbled, petulant.

Bruce glanced in the rear-view mirror at him, amused. “Would road head make you stop pouting?”

Tony stopped pouting to consider it. “...Is it road head if I’m not driving?”

“Let’s find out,” Thor said, and then Tony squealed.

Bruce had never regretted the seating arrangement more as they disappeared from the mirror’s view.

They passed Reno without a complaint from Tony, though, so he considered it a win, and decided they could spend extra time at the Winchester House to make up for it.

.-.-.-.

Thor got to the ticket counter before Tony did for once, and he got the bundle so that they could tour the house and the secret passages.

“It’s a good thing they changed the photo policy,” Bruce said, looking over a pamphlet for the house. “Now you can take photos so your family can see them. You couldn’t before. Just make sure you tag the Winchester House.”

Thor tugged Tony up against him and lifted his phone for a selfie while he yelped. He loved getting pictures of his boyfriends when they looked less than perfect―and what better picture than Tony looking startled and Bruce squinting over his glasses at a pamphlet. He posted it while they tried to climb him like a tree to stop him, yelling.

.-.-.-.

Bruce and Tony had planned on stopping at the Millennium Biltmore before they arrived at Tony’s Malibu home, but when Thor glanced in the rear-view mirror to ask them if they wanted to stop to eat, they were leaning on each other in the backseat, sound asleep. He decided that if they really wanted to see the Biltmore, they could make a day trip later. It wasn’t that far away. Besides, Tony had been very concerned about leaving Dum-E unattended in Los Angeles. He’d privately thought it was silly that they wanted to bypass Malibu anyway.

He pulled over just long enough to take a picture of Tony and Bruce curled up together in the back seat before pulling back onto the road and changing the destination on the GPS to Tony’s address.

.-.-.-.

Thor cursed himself for being thoughtful because as soon as they got to Tony’s house, Dum-E recognized it and rolled himself off the trailer before they could set up a ramp. He broke his arm. The one-armed robot broke his goddamn only arm. Bruce took a video of him and Tony trying and failing to get Dum-E upright, because Dum-E kept spinning his wheels in terror and as soon as they got him up he’d just fall back down, unable to catch himself because his arm was broken. Thor assumed that as soon as this was all over and Dum-E was fixed, they’d laugh about it

He didn’t know that Bruce was going to post the video to his family Instagram and tag his parents and brother so that they’d see it immediately.

_ Haha _ , Loki commented, the only actual interaction beyond likes he had offered the entire trip, and Thor was sure it was because they finally got Dum-E upright in a way that his wheels wouldn’t knock him down―in a way that meant Thor got dragged across the ground for six feet.  On the bright side, Tony immediately peppered his face with kisses to make up for the embarrassment, and was going to let him have the first shower.

He said let, because Thor dragged him and Bruce into the shower with him anyway. It was big enough.


	20. Pepper/Natasha

Boarding School AU

Pepper hated school dances.

She was aware that she was the one who had begged to go to boarding school, and she’d understood that going to this one meant that there would be coed dances with the boys’ school across the river. She just hadn’t expected for it to be mandatory to go, or that so many boys would ask her to dance. Or that they’d be so bad at it.

So she found one boy who could dance and stuck by him the entire night. He had a hip flask.

“This could get you kicked out of school,” Pepper commented as she watched him pour some amber liquid into his cup.

“I’m rich, they can’t do shit to me,” Tony said, and then, “Do you want some or not?”

Pepper held her cup of punch out, and when he hovered the flask over her cup, she pushed on his wrist so he poured a healthy amount of liquor in. “I’m not rich, so if I get caught and kicked out, you owe me a job.”

“ _ I _ don’t even have a job yet,” Tony complained. “But of course I will. Who do you think will get in a fist fight first, Justin Hammer or Aldrich Killian?”

“Unfair bet. They’re going to get into a fight with each other,” Pepper said, taking a sip of her punch. She made a face. She’d thought it had been rum. It was whiskey. Oh well, she sighed, taking another sip. Her fault for not asking, especially since Tony had never had the same liquor twice since she’d known him.

“Ugh,” Tony sighed, disgusted. “Annoying. What are we expected to talk about then. Classes? Barbaric.”

Pepper smirked. “How are classes?”

“I’m going to go tell Aldrich Killian that you want to dance with him,” Tony warned.

“You’re the worst,” Pepper informed him, and then took a pointedly long sip of her drink. She brightened when she saw a familiar face at the door, but just as quickly wilted. “Oh.”

Tony frowned at her, confused. “Oh?” He turned to the door, then did a pretty good approximation of what she’d just done, expression rising with happiness and then falling again. “Oh.”

“They make a good couple,” Pepper said, voice small, as Natasha Romanoff and Steve Rogers moved onto the floor. They really did look lovely together.

“Yeah,” Tony agreed softly, face sad. “I taught him to dance, you know.”

“I know,” Pepper said, and reached for his hand. Tony had been head over heels for Steve Rogers for years. Pepper’s crush on Natasha was a new thing, and it hurt, but she was allowed to pine quietly, for the most part. Everybody knew about Tony’s crush except for Steve, it seemed, and a lot of them weren’t shy about making fun of him for it. “Do you think Natasha likes girls?” she asked when he didn’t squeeze her hand back.

Tony turned to give her a confused frown. “What idiot wouldn’t like you, Pepper?” he asked, honestly perplexed at the idea.

Pepper laughed and leaned in to bump shoulders with him. “Come on,” she said, tugging him toward the table. “Let’s eat all the cranberry and brie dip.”

“You don’t want me to poop ever again,” Tony surmised, but followed her anyway.

Pepper rolled her eyes. “Yup. You got me. My dastardly plan. Back up your pipes until you need to be hospitalized.”

“It’s honestly a toss-up for me as to whether you’ll become CEO based on merit or by just killing your bosses until you get to the top,” Tony said. He didn’t look particularly concerned, though, especially considering that she was always teasing him about giving her a job.

Pepper laughed again.

.-.-.-.

Natasha smelled like earl grey tea. She’d given Pepper her sweatshirt to wear while she practiced when she’d noticed Pepper shivering in the early fall morning on the grass near the field. Pepper couldn’t stop tucking her nose into it and taking slow deep breaths.

“You are seriously pathetic,” Janet said, popping her gum. “Are you ever going to just tell her you like her?”

“No,” Pepper said, sighing softly as she watched Natasha body-check Maria Hill. “Do you think I should take up lacrosse?”

“You can’t stare at Romanoff like a creep if you’re on the field,” Janet pointed out. “Also the practices would conflict with our study group.”

Pepper threw her hands up and fell back on the grass, frowning. “Ugh!”

“It’s not like we do a lot of studying anyway,” Jane pointed out, not looking up from her phone. “We just peer review each others’ essays when we have them. We could use a Google Hangout for that if you wanted to join lacrosse.”

“She still wouldn’t be able to ogle Romanoff though,” Darcy argued. “And! Pepper’s built like a willow tree. If she got body-checked, they might snap her in half.”

“Body-checking is illegal in women’s lacrosse,” Jane replied.

They all turned their heads to watch as Maria Hill body-checked Natasha in revenge for earlier.

“...Maybe you should stick to the study group,” Janet suggested, wincing, as both girls fell to the ground and immediately got into a scuffle.

Pepper slowly lifted the collar of Natasha’s sweatshirt to breathe in again, unable to look away. Maybe she should start drinking earl grey tea. It was starting to be chilly in the mornings, anyway. The warm beverage would probably do her good.

.-.-.-.

“I hate them,” Pepper said morosely, leaning her cheek on her hand. It was nearing curfew, and Steve and Natasha were still swaying back and forth on the dance floor. What was worse, she thought, was that they allowed themselves to be pulled apart to dance with other people, and then they just drifted back together so naturally.

No, she had to admit after a moment. The worst part was that she couldn’t really hate them at all. It wasn’t their fault she had a big, stupid crush on Natasha, after all.

“It’s not fair,” Tony hiccuped sadly.

Pepper turned to look at him, then sighed. “Honey. How much of your hip flask did you drink?”

“It’s empty,” Tony admitted, ashamed.

She sighed again, reaching out to take his arm and ease him out of his seat. “Come on. I’ll get you back to your school.”

“I taught him how to dance, you know?” Tony said, allowing her to lead him.

“I know,” Pepper replied gently. “You did a good job.”

“I wish I had a chance with him,” Tony said, distraught. “At least Natasha likes you. She gave you her sweatshirt and smells like earl grey tea. And when you gave it back I bet it smelled like jasmine because you like jasmine perfume. I bet Natasha liked it. Steve just thinks I’m some rich asshole who thinks he doesn’t deserve to be here because he has a scholarship.” He stopped and stared down the slope to the river. “I don’t. I think Steve’s great. And his arms felt so nice around me.”

“He has nice arms,” Pepper offered.

“He’s built like a fucking brick house,” Tony said. He stared at the river a little longer. “I want him to rip me in half.”

“Tony,” Pepper choked out. It would be inappropriate to laugh when he was so upset, she reminded herself.

“Just hold me down and murder me with his dick,” Tony continued.

Pepper smiled and tried to get him moving again. “Okay, Tony.”

“Maybe if he did that, Natasha would break up with him and then you could comfort her,” Tony added.

“There’s an idea,” Pepper heard behind them, and she froze, mortified. She knew that voice. It was the same one that had said ‘put on a jacket or you’ll catch cold, dummy,’ before a sweatshirt smelling of earl grey had been dumped in her arms. Oh God.

Tony, apparently too drunk to be embarrassed, turned to look, letting out a dismayed little sound as his foot caught the edge of the road and he went tumbling off the side and down the slope into the ditch.

“TONY!” Pepper shouted, reaching for him, and let out a high-pitched yelp as she fell after him. She hit the ground with a ‘whumph’ that knocked the breath out of her, and she laid there, stunned, staring at Tony who was lying face down on the ground. Oh God. What if he was dead. She was going to get kicked out of school for letting him drink, she just knew it.

It took a few minutes, but eventually she heard yelling. She thought maybe someone had called an ambulance since neither she and Tony had moved for a while, but after a minute the loud, muffled sounds articulated into words. Pepper finally turned her head to look up at the road.

Janet was going ballistic, slapping at Steve and Natasha as they cowered away from her. “YOU FUCKING USELESS GAYS I HATE YOU. WHAT IF THEY WERE HURT. WHY WOULDN’T YOU GO DOWN AND HELP THEM. GOD YOU’RE SO USELESS I DON’T KNOW WHAT PEPPER AND TONY SEE IN YOU. GLAD TO KNOW IN A CRISIS YOU’LL JUST STARE AT THEIR BUTTS YOU ASSHOLES.”

Jane and Darcy climbed down the slope to get down to them. “You okay?” Jane asked in concern, reaching out to put her dress to rights.

“What the fuck,” Pepper choked out. Then she felt her skirt being pulled at and she realized that the skirt of her dress had flown up and given a pretty… complete view of her undergarments. Pepper thought about being even more embarrassed, but mostly she just… hurt. She’d hit the ground pretty hard. She was pretty sure she’d landed on a rock.

“Tony’s okay,” Darcy said.

“Well thank God something good happened tonight,” Pepper sighed. “Let’s go rescue Steve and Natasha then.”

“Uh, no,” Jane replied, rolling her eyes. “Those idiots just stood there while you guys could have been hurt. They deserve it.”

“Although to be fair, if the girl I liked was wearing panties like yours, I’d stare, too,” Darcy offered Pepper. “Come on, Tony.”

Pepper sat up and winced. She really had landed on a rock. “Thanks, Darcy,” she added after a minute. “I got them at Macy’s.”

“Cool, I’ll look for some,” she said.

Ultimately, all three of them had to help Tony up because he was so drunk, and Janet paused in her slapping at Steve and Natasha to haul him back onto the road. “You go home and think about what you did,” Janet hissed, pointing at Steve and Natasha dangerously.

“Yes ma’am,” they answered meekly.

“Jan I don’t live with you,” Tony said, voice small, as she began bullying him back to their school.

“We’re doing face masks and talking about how useless Steve and Natasha were in your hour of need,” Janet informed him primly. “Also the RA and I have a deal so she’ll look the other way when we bring you in.”

“Can we get ice on the way to our room? I landed on a rock,” Pepper said.

She immediately regretted it, because Janet gasped, ‘of course!’ and then seriously looked like she was considering grabbing a rock and going back to beat Natasha and Steve with it. Ultimately she just muttered about useless lesbians and gays as she bullied Tony ahead of them, though, so Pepper allowed herself a small sigh of relief.

.-.-.-.

Someone knocked on their door the next morning. Pepper got up to get it because Tony and Janet were too hungover to move, Darcy slept like the dead, and Jane was doing some studying in the quiet.

It was Natasha.

“I’m sorry I’m a useless lesbian,” Natasha said. She held up a drink carrier with four large cups, a fifth held in her hands. “I brought you guys coffee to make up for it.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to―” Pepper began.

“You actually really, super did,” Jane said, appearing at the door and taking the drink carrier from her hands. “Pepper landed on a rock.”

Natasha looked dismayed. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” Pepper said. “Tony was hurt worse than I was, anyway.”

Natasha winced. “I’m really sorry for startling you guys and making you fall into the ditch.”

“It wasn’t your fault Tony was drunk,” Pepper sighed.

“In our defense, Steve really didn’t know about Tony’s crush on him until Tony said he wanted Steve to murder him with his dick,” Natasha said.

Pepper sighed and lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. “Tony has always been stupidly obvious.”

“Well, I guess Steve’s also stupidly oblivious,” Natasha sighed, rolling her eyes, but she was still smiling a little. “I thought he just asked me to the dance to make Tony jealous to spur him into making a move but when I saw you guys leaving last night, I realized Steve really had no idea and he mostly just wanted to make Justin Hammer and Brock Rumlow stop picking on him for being a ‘charity case’ by showing up to school dances with the most intimidating girl he knew.”

“What an idiot,” Pepper said after a moment. “He’s twice their size. He could just pummel them into the ground to get them to shut up.”

“Steve’s already on academic warning because he’s gotten into three fights,” Natasha explained. “At least if it’s me, I can beat the shit out of them and just say they were being gross.”

Pepper tilted her head, conceding. “Yeah, that sounds about right.” She reached out to take the last cup from Natasha’s hand, holding it between both of her own and just letting the warmth seep into her. It smelled like earl grey.

“I, uh, noticed you’d been drinking it more lately,” Natasha explained when she looked down at the cup in surprise.

“You did?” Pepper asked dumbly. Natasha had noticed that? Natasha had been  _ watching _ her enough to notice that?

“Yeah,” Natasha admitted. “You’re really smart and pretty and you like tea, so.” She shrugged uncomfortably. “But, um. I thought maybe you were straight and dating Tony, so, uh―”

“Ew, no,” Pepper scoffed. She heard a sad noise and dipped backward a little to call out, “Sorry, Tony, but you’re not my type. Also you’re stupidly in love with Steve.”

Tony sighed into his coffee morosely as Janet gently carded her fingers through his hair. “That’s fair.”

Pepper looked back at Natasha, who looked like she didn’t know whether it was appropriate to laugh or not. “I’m not dating Tony,” she repeated.

“Well, I’m not dating Steve,” Natasha replied. Then she began fidgeting as she looked down at her feet, mumbling, “So if you wanted to… ‘comfort’ me… I wouldn’t say no…”

Pepper stared at her. “Are you asking me out?”

Natasha blushed a little, then took a deep breath and looked back up at her. “Yeah,” she said, then clenched her jaw, as if it had been the hardest thing she’d ever done.

“I hate earl grey tea,” Pepper said, and then threw her arms around Natasha’s shoulders to pull her into a kiss. She giggled when she felt Natasha mumble ‘what the hell’ against her lips and leaned back to explain, “I only drank it because it reminded me of you.”

“Oh,” Natasha said, looking like Pepper had just dropped a brick on her head, and pulled her into another kiss.

They really only stopped because Natasha’s phone started vibrating and wouldn’t stop, and she rolled her eyes in annoyance as she finally answered it with a barked “WHAT!” Pepper couldn’t help but giggle again.

Natasha went from looking vaguely annoyed to surprised to fond in just a few seconds, and she pulled her phone away from her ear to explain, “Steve’s waiting for Tony downstairs. He brought flowers.”

“Tony likes flowers,” Pepper replied magnanimously.

“Also he wants to make sure you know he was staring at Tony’s butt and not your panties,” Natasha added, looking pained.

“He’s got a nice butt so I’m not surprised,” Pepper allowed.

“It’s really unfair how nice Tony’s butt is,” Natasha agreed mulishly, then returned to her phone. “Yeah, I told her. Whether he comes out now is up to him. Yup. Bye.”

Pepper sighed. “I suppose we should go tell Tony.”

“Let Steve sweat it out for a few minutes,” Natasha suggested, wrapping her arms around Pepper’s waist again. “Tony’s been waiting a long time. Steve can stand to wait a few minutes.”

“I like the way you think,” Pepper said, smiling. Then she tilted her head. “Also Tony’s still pretty hungover so let’s give him the dignity of sprucing himself up a bit.”

Natasha nodded, trying not to laugh again. “You’re right. It would serve Steve right if Tony came out looking so beautiful he couldn’t even speak again.”

“I don’t know why you’re laughing when you saw a flash of Pepper’s panties and turned into a fucking statue,” Janet muttered as she passed the door.

Pepper watched Natasha cycle through all the stages of grief as she realized Janet would never let her live it down. It was kind of incredible. “It’s okay,” she assured when Natasha sighed. “I forgive you.”

“Will Janet?” Natasha asked.

Pepper opened her mouth, then closed it again thoughtfully. “I think she will when she sees you make me happy,” she decided.

Natasha blushed a little at the idea of making her happy. Pepper thought it was adorable.


	21. Tony/Rhodey/Pepper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Reioka, it's November," you're saying. "Yeah," I reply, unrepentant.

Airport AU

Their flight had been canceled _ again_.

“We’re literally never going to make it home,” Jim said into his phone.

_“James,”_ his mother scolded, but there was laughter in her voice.

“I’m not kidding,” Jim continued as he watched Pepper try and reason with one of the airline employees at the desk for the _ third time_. “Pepper only has so much time off and we’re wasting it all here at the airport. I might actually lose my mind and punch a TSA agent just to have something to do that isn’t waiting.”

_“Don’t punch a TSA agent,”_ Roberta scoffed. _“Just do what you can, and if you can’t make it, well… I’ll send you a care package until Pepper accrues enough vacation time to try again.”_

“Fucking Hammer Tech,” Jim hissed under his breath. “Well, I’m gonna go buy some overpriced coffee. I’ll let you know what’s up when we finally get some answers.”

_“Okay, hon’,”_ Roberta replied. _“Good luck with your new flight.”_

“Thanks, Mama. Love you,” Jim sighed, and waited until she said she loved him back before he hung up. He let his hand drop to his side and sighed again. He and Pepper only had a little bit of time to go visit his parents before she was swept up in planning for the holidays at work. Hammer wasn’t even giving her extra days off around Christmas.

“Inclement weather, am I right?” someone said sympathetically from right next to him, and he jumped, because he hadn’t realized anyone was that close.

The man was… stupidly handsome. Jim kind of hated him on sight for it, but he was man enough to admit it was because he was so rarely actually attracted to men that he didn’t always know what to do with that attraction. He was drinking coffee too, which Jim also hated, because as he glanced over his shoulder, the line at Starbucks was now hellishly long. Probably other people he’d have been sharing the flight with if it hadn’t been cancelled.

“I mean, not that I would know,” Tony added thoughtfully. “My pilot’s an idiot and so am I, so we’re flying out regardless.”

“For real? There’s a hurricane coming up through Texas,” Jim pointed out, concerned.

The man shrugged, taking an obnoxious slurp of his coffee. “We’re going north up through Canada. I have a meeting in New York that I can’t miss.”

Jim swiveled to face him. “New York?” They could rent a car in New York and drive the rest of the way to Philadelphia. Hell, they could take the train. “You’re going to New York?”

“Why, is that where you’re headed?” the man asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I will give you all the money in my bank account if you let us hitch a ride with you,” Jim said immediately. Pepper had been so looking forward to seeing his mom. Her family hadn’t been quite so supportive of her dreams to go into tech, and when she’d brought him home… well. So the Rhodes family had welcomed her into the fold with open arms, and she looked forward to visits with them with all of her heart as a respite from her clawing her way up the ladder in the business world. If he could get Pepper to Philadelphia to visit his family, he’d willingly go into debt for it.

“Ha!” the man laughed, knocking Jim’s arm with the back of his hand. “Never had someone ask to pay to get on my flight! Usually they just offer to fuck me.”

“...I’m doing this for my girlfriend, man,” Jim said, frowning at him.

The man blanched. “Oh. Uh. I mean. People definitely don’t offer to do that haha. And I definitely don’t have a stripper pole in my jet.”

“...You have a stripper pole on your jet?” Jim asked, raising his eyebrows.

“What? No!” the man scoffed, and then took a big slurp of coffee, eyes darting around anxiously. “That would be―weird. I definitely don’t. And people definitely don’t offer to fuck me. That’s weird, haha!”

“I think we should just go home,” Pepper said morosely as she trudged up to them. “By the time we get a flight rerouted to Philly I’ll only get a day with them. I can just get a head start on work and―Oh! Tony!” she added, surprised.

“Ms. Potts,” the man, Tony apparently, replied, just as surprised. “I haven’t seen you since that last shitty meeting with Hammer! Uh, no offense,” he added hastily.

Pepper smiled self-deprecatingly. “No, it was really shitty. I swear I actually tried to get Mr. Hammer prepared for the meeting.”

“It’s not your fault he’s a smug asshole,” Tony insisted. “And that he has no idea how to use your skills. Quite frankly, you’re too good for him, and if I wasn’t sure he’d had you sign a non-compete clause, I’d definitely poach you for my personal secretary and then mentor you into taking on more responsibility.”

“I like you,” Jim decided. “Also I read her contract. Hammer was so certain no one else would want her that there’s no non-compete clause. What are your holiday hours like?”

Tony blinked up at him. “I mean the lead up to Christmas is busy but everyone who we can’t afford to not work is paid holiday pay and get extra vacation to use throughout the year. I thought you said you were her boyfriend? Are you also her agent?” He gave Jim a long, slow look up and down. “I’ll have you know I flirt like I breathe, so I’ll probably hit on Ms. Potts a lot. Just feel like we should put that on the table so there’s no misunderstandings”

“Well, I think you better hit on me too, just to make it fair,” Jim said, and wasn’t sorry when Pepper turned speculative eyes on him. Tony was looking up at him with his mouth opened into a stunned, adorable little ‘o’ of surprise, so he was even more not sorry about it, too. “Also I wasn’t lying about paying you. Please take us to New York.”

“You don’t have to pay me, I’m going anyway and it’s just me and my pilot,” Tony scoffed. “There’s plenty of room. Also I have like… three fruit baskets and a bottle of champagne so you don’t even have to worry about food on the trip.”

“Are you going to show Jim some of your moves on the stripper pole?” Pepper asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Wait, you were serious about there being a stripper pole?!” Jim choked out.

“Tony can hold himself upside down and spread his legs without falling,” Pepper explained smugly.

“Oh my God why would you tell your boyfriend the sluttiest move I can do on a stripper pole,” Tony hissed at her, blushing a little.

Pepper gave him a look of deep disdain. “That move is _ not _ sluttier than the spatchcock.”

“Why do you know the moves he can do on a stripper pole?!” Jim exclaimed, aghast.

“Because Hammer’s gross and likes to take Tony out to stripper clubs after business meetings, and since I’m his secretary I have to go in case there’s ‘notes’ that need to be taken,” Pepper replied with a roll of her eyes, using finger quotes and everything. “And Tony is like. Stupidly charismatic and makes friends with everyone so he always pays for a private room so the strippers can teach him things. It’s cute. Sometimes he even falls off the pole and it’s charming.”

“I want you to work for me why are you telling him all this weird shit about me!?” Tony hissed, elbowing her.

Pepper smirked at Jim over Tony’s head. “Because he knows I hate Hammer so I want him to be sure you’re nothing like him.”

“_By telling him I can spatchcock a stripper pole?! _” Tony whispered shrilly.

“I mean… I was already down with the idea when you answered about holiday hours,” Jim said after some thought. “Knowing she can embarrass you? That’s actually super nice to know. Hammer’s a creep that doesn’t know when to quit, and I’m pretty sure the only reason he doesn’t hit on Pepper is because he’s scared of her.”

“Also he’s creepily obsessed with Tony so I’m not worth his time,” Pepper deadpanned.

Tony sagged. “It’s true oh my God I hate him so much he’s such a creep.”

Jim patted him on the shoulder gently. “That’s rough, man. Anyway you should definitely hire Pepper because I want to spend Christmas with my parents _ and _ my girlfriend this year.”

Tony turned to Pepper, looking appalled. “You’re his fucking secretary, what in God’s name could he have you do around Christmas?! You’re not an engineer or manufacturer, that’s ridiculous! He at least gives you a holiday bonus, right?!”

“No. You’d give me a holiday bonus on top of holiday pay?” Pepper asked, surprised.

“Oh my God!” Tony thundered.

“Hey, Tony, we better head out before they ground private planes too,” a woman with short blond hair said, coming up behind him and clapping a hand on his shoulder. “―I left you alone for ten minutes. How in the world could you get so worked up in ten minutes,” she added when he hissed at her.

“Pepper doesn’t get a holiday bonus _ or _ holiday pay!” Tony exclaimed, incensed.

“Okay,” the woman said. “Is Pepper coming on the plane with us so you can negotiate a contract? I want her to sign a waiver about the weather.”

“Jim too,” Pepper said quickly, grabbing his arm.

“Two waivers then,” she said bluntly, then shoved her right hand at them. “Carol Danvers. I’ll be your pilot, provided _ we get out there so we’re not not grounded _ like everyone else.”

  
“But we need our bags,” Jim said.

Tony scoffed and let Carol begin leading him away. “I’ll buy you new clothes. If I can’t get to New York, I’ll be in big trouble.”

“They’ll send the bags on or they won’t, I didn’t pack anything important because I just wanted to spend time with your family so I don’t actually care so long as I can see them,” Pepper said.

Jim shrugged. His tablet was in his carry-on and the only thing of value in his suitcase was a copy of a book he’d meant to bring for his niece. He could buy another one when they got to New York.

“And no going on the stripper pole until we’ve finished our ascent,” Carol added to Tony sternly.

“I only had to go rolling to the back of the plane once to figure that out,” Tony muttered petulantly, pouting.

Jim wished he’d been there to see it, because it sounded hilarious.

.-.-.-.

Tony actually whipped out paperwork for Pepper to sign on the plane.

“Do you just carry these things with you?” Jim asked, surprised.

“I hire a lot of people off the street,” Tony replied, shrugging, as they both looked the paperwork over. “Carol and her wife saved my ass in a bar fight, and my bodyguard Happy helped me after I was hit by a car. I feel like you can tell a lot more about a person’s character when they’re not in an interview.”

“Makes sense,” Pepper said, looking very impressed. “That’s a good idea.”

Jim watched Tony beam at her, soaking in her praise, then skipped ahead to the fraternization part of the contract. “It doesn’t say anything about employees dating.”

“Oh, well, it’s in the HR part, you need to tell HR when it happens and…” Tony trailed off, frowning. “...I thought I was just hiring Pepper. Not that it matters, since you two are dating previously to being hired, and… What am I hiring you for?”

“Oh, you’re not,” Jim explained, skipping forward to the ‘reporting to HR’ section. “I just wanna know our options.”

Tony stared at him, uncomprehending.

“He wants to bone you!” Carol called back from the cockpit.

“Oh!” Tony exclaimed, and then blushed a little, scratching his chin as he looked everywhere but at Jim and Pepper. “I mean. You don’t… need HR permission to fuck me. Since you’re not… an SI employee…”

“Pepper will be there too,” Jim explained.

Tony stared at him again, stunned. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Words failed him.

Jim had heard from Pepper that this was almost unheard of and felt quite proud of himself.

“Don’t worry,” Pepper said, lifting her head to give Tony a wink. “I know how to compartmentalize. It won’t affect my work at all.”

Tony said nothing, instead just slowly turning red from the top of his ears down to his chest.

“Or not,” Jim added, taking pity on him. “Don’t wanna make this too weird or anything.”

“It was already too weird when Pepper told you I could spatchcock,” Tony mumbled.

“Okay but can I at least see you do that? Because I don’t believe you can,” Jim said bluntly.

Tony looked at him, affronted that he wouldn’t believe he was capable of it, and then said, “Alright but I have to take off my pants because the last time I did this I ripped my slacks.”

“Oh no, what a hardship,” Pepper sighed, rolling her eyes.

Tony scowled at her but began shucking his pants. Jim could understand the warning once they were down―he was wearing a red thong underneath them. It still wasn’t a hardship though.

.-.-.-.

“Holy shit,” Tony gasped, sitting up. “I broke so many company rules.”

Pepper wrapped an arm around his shoulders and yanked him back down. “I’m not technically hired yet, so it’s fine. It’ll only be against the rules if we do it after we turn the paperwork in.”

“Your boyfriend dicked me so hard my eyes crossed,” Tony moaned, covering his face. “How am I supposed to look either of you in the face ever again?”

“You’re right,” Jim said solemnly. “We should have thought this through. After all, it’s only fair that Pepper dick you so hard that your eyes cross, too.”

“_What_,” Tony yelped, turning to look at him with wide eyes.

“Don’t worry,” Jim assured him. “Her strap-on is high-quality and she’s _very_ good with it.”

Tony made a sound as if all of his brain activity simply ceased to function but needed to make noise.

Jim was already figuring out ways to circumvent the contracts. A man so generous and adorable and sexy had no right to be single right in front of his and Pepper’s faces.

.-.-.-.

Jim put up a stripper pole in their bedroom and was pleased every time that Tony glanced at it and blushed.


	22. Pepper/May

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some background: Tony and May met when they were kids at one of Maria’s charity things and became fast friends. They didn’t get to see each other much growing up, but whenever they met again, it was like no time had passed at all between them. When they’re old enough to meet without guardians, they go out and Tony buys May all the ingredients she wants and then they go back to the Stark mansion and May bakes to her hearts’ content. Tony is happy because he gets to eat it.

Business AU

It was never actually supposed to turn out as well as it had.

After Ben had died, May had been struggling to make ends meet, especially when they’d just taken in Ben’s nephew, Peter. Social services had offered to put him in a foster home, but she’d been too unwilling to cause the boy anymore upheaval after losing first his parents, and then his uncle. She’d agreed with Ben to take responsibility for him, so she’d stick to it and show Peter how important it was to keep promises.

But then one day she couldn’t even afford peanut butter or bread to make a sandwich for him, so she’d had to make a call.

“I’m not asking for a handout,” she’d said, voice shaking. “I need a loan. I’ll pay whatever interest you decide as long as it’s reasonable.”

“Bake me a cake and we’re even,” Tony Stark had told her, and hung up without another word. Within minutes, he’d wired her more money than she’d ever dreamed of.

She’d baked him a cake every week for a month before he’d said, “You could make a go of this, you know.”

May hadn’t known. She didn’t think her cakes were worth ‘a go.’ Sure, they were good enough for a neighbor’s birthday party for a few bucks, but an actual storefront? She wasn’t sure about that.

“Just a thought,” Tony had said when she hadn’t responded. “But I’d give you a loan for that, if you wanted,” he added as he picked up the last cake she’d made and left with it.

May had thought about it for a long time before calling him back up and taking the plunge. If it failed, it failed. But if it thrived, she’d have enough to get by, and she was willing to do that. Peter deserved to be taken care of well.

.-.-.-.

Things got off to a shaky start, but then she catered a wedding for a very wealthy socialite with three different flavors of cupcakes and her business soared. She’d never be able to thank Tony enough for the initial loan or the reference to his friend.

“I just want cake,” Tony told her seriously, and did not inform her that every single loan payment she gave him went into a college fund for Peter. He had the money, and she’d been one of the few friends he had growing up. He didn’t mind helping her and her family, especially after the shock of Ben’s sudden death. “And Janet knows I have a sweet tooth so when she’d asked for bakery references I told her about you because you make great cake. Janet was over the moon when she came back from tasting with you. I like the ants you used to decorate Hank’s cupcakes. The chocolate went really well with the pistachio cake.”

“Thanks, they were tedious,” May replied, and smacked his hand away from the lace cookies she’d baked as an experiment. “Those have peanuts.”

Tony stared at the cookies morosely. “It’s only a mild allergy.”

“Don’t be a fucking idiot,” May told him. “Set a better example for Peter.”

Tony sighed as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders as he finally turned away from the cookies. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“These are too ugly for my catering gig,” she said, handing him a tray full of lopsided or slightly overdone cupcakes cut into halves. “Take these outside as samples and if a guy with a pet horse comes up, his horse can have one of the vanilla ones.”

“A pet horse?” Tony said, baffled, but took the tray outside obediently.

May waited until he was outside the door to pull out her phone and take a picture of him to send to Peter. She didn’t think there was anything funnier than a handsome man in a suit who was usually so charismatic just forgetting everything about himself that made him approachable. Tony could run circles around a boardroom, but out in public, he was afraid to be too pushy as people went about their days. It made for the hilarious picture of a man mostly just holding the tray out with a hopeful expression. May had no idea why he was still single; he was fucking adorable.

She frowned when she watched his shoulders suddenly draw up to his ears and looked up from her phone screen. A woman was talking to him. Tony was looking everywhere but at her, as if trying to find an escape route.

May charged outside instead. “Who are you?” she asked bluntly.

The woman jerked back in surprise, hand coming up to her chest. “I, uh―I’m Virginia. Potts. Virginia Potts.”

“Well take your cupcake and stop bothering my sampler,” May retorted.

“I can’t have gluten, so I guess I’ll just… go,” Virginia Potts said, flustered, and turned on one of her heels and quickly walked away.

“Why did you do that,” Tony asked, mortified.

May turned to tell him that not much had actually changed and she’d protect him from bullies regardless of how old they were, but the horror on his face stopped her. “...Did I do something wrong?” she asked, voice small.

“We’ve been trying to work with Potts Tech for years and we finally had a contract drawn up, we just needed to go over it one last time,” Tony breathed, shoulders sagging. He almost looked like he might cry. “What if she decides not to do business with me anymore?”

“Over a cupcake?” May asked skeptically, but was honestly beginning to feel a little bit bad about it. “If she really cares about this merger or whatever it is, one mean cake lady shouldn’t put her off,” she reasoned.

Tony sighed, frowning down at the cupcakes. “She said I looked like an awkward greyhound.”

May had to try very hard not to laugh, because he  _ had _ looked awkward. She didn’t know what that had to do with greyhounds, but she figured if she asked Peter, he would know. “I mean…”

Tony looked up at her, hurt. “I give you a loan for a bakery and a client who’s gonna sing your praises to everyone she meets and you agree that I look like the ugliest dog to ever exist.”

“You’re not uglier than a pug,” May offered.

“ _ Not uglier than a pug? _ ” Tony repeated shrilly, and she fled back into the store. “Just put the bar on the ground it’s so low!”

May finished up her cupcakes for the event she was catering and then made some lace cookies without peanuts just for him since she felt bad. She was just walking toward the door again when she watched a familiar Great Dane plow into Tony and take him out, cupcakes and all. She turned and went back into the kitchen. It would probably take an entire cake to make him feel better about how his day had gone. She could always tell him it was an experimental flavor if he accused her of doing it out of pity, after all.

.-.-.-.

“Oh,” May said when noticed a familiar redhead approaching the table. “It’s you.”

“I’ve just come to get a napkin,” Pepper said hastily, holding the napkin up.

May stared at her, bewildered. “I’m not going to stop you from taking a napkin.”

“I didn’t know if you were still mad about me harassing Mr. Stark during his… side job?” Pepper suggested after a moment. “Although to be fair, I didn’t expect a man making billions of dollars to need a side job…”

“Mostly I bully him. He’s easily bullied outside of business,” May replied, shrugging. “Also I knew if I didn’t kick him out somehow he’d give himself an allergic reaction to peanuts and he’s adorable when he’s awkward. So.”

“Well, he was pretty adorable once you got past the terror in his eyes,” Pepper mused. “I hope he got one of the cupcakes. He looked so awkward.”

May did not tell her that Tony hadn’t because he’d been quite fantastically taken out by her tattoo-artist neighbor’s Great Dane. She figured she’d embarrassed him in front of a potential business partner enough for one day. “I’m really sorry about snapping at you. I get kind of protective of him since he’s helped me out so much,” she explained. She motioned at some cupcakes. “These are gluten free, if you want one. I use a mix of almond, brown rice, and oat flour.”

“Oh, I’m allergic to strawberries,” Pepper said, smiling apologetically.

May stared at her. “Gluten-free and allergic to strawberries. What else are you intolerant to? Joy and love?”

“Hey, no one was sadder than I was when I bit into a strawberry and got covered in hives when I was five,” Pepper replied with good humor. “But yeah, I’m intolerant to gluten and allergic to strawberries, blackberries, and raspberries. Yup,” she added when May’s mouth fell open in disbelief. “It’s pretty sad. I console myself with the fact that I can at least eat peaches and cherries.”

“I do have a triple chocolate cherry cake I could probably tweak to be gluten-free,” May mused.

Pepper frowned, concerned. “Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“I like playing with recipes. It’s how Tony and I bonded. I’m surprised he doesn’t weigh more, honestly,” May said, shrugging. “Come by the shop in a week and I’ll have some for you.”

Pepper continued to frown for a moment, unsure, but it quickly faded into a shy smile. “Really? I’d like that. I haven’t had a really good cupcake in like… five years.”

“This’ll be the best cupcake you will ever have in your life,” May promised, smiling back at her.

Pepper tilted her head, smile growing, apparently giddy at the thought.

Oh no, May thought, dismayed. Pepper was really cute like this. She’d better make sure the cupcakes were fantastic.

.-.-.-.

“Why are you vibrating,” Tony asked, concerned.

“I’m not,” May lied, and set her water bottle down, because she couldn’t take a decent sip of it.

Tony continued to squint at her suspiciously, not believing her for a minute. Then he turned when he heard the bell May had hung above the door chime pleasantly. “You,” he gasped, pointing.

“Uh, hi?” Pepper replied, confused.

“You signed the contract no take backsies,” Tony informed her imperiously.

“I wasn’t going to try and take it back?” Pepper answered, frowning at him. “I literally just came to have a cupcake.”

Tony turned his suspicious squint on her. Pepper was alarmed to admit that it did give her an awkward pause. He hadn’t looked like that when they’d gone over the contract earlier.

“Cut it out!” May hissed, smacking his shoulder.

Tony whipped around to scowl at her, then frowned. Then he gasped and looked back at Pepper. “Oh!” He turned back to May, smirking. “Ohoho.  _ Oh _ .”

“Leave immediately,” May ordered.

“I gotta pee first,” Tony chirped, continuing to smirk at her, and sauntered back behind the counter and into the back.

“...I can’t tell if he’s lying, but if he isn’t, it is truly unfair that he can sound smug even while he needs to pee,” Pepper said after a moment.

May sighed, dropping her face into her hands. “He’s always been like that.”

“That’s horrifying,” Pepper said, but she also looked intrigued. She looked around the bakery, peering through the glass at some of the confections on display. “I miss cream puffs,” she said sadly before turning her attention back to May. “You said you’d have a cupcake for me?” she asked hopefully.

May nodded, proud of herself. She’d gotten Peter, M.J.,  _ and _ Ned to try out the recipe every time she tweaked it. They’d finally all given her a thumbs up, although Ned had made the comment that the cherry chutney in the center might be a bit cloying to people who didn’t like sweets. It had been a chance May had been willing to take, because otherwise the chocolate could have overpowered the more subtle cherry flavor.

She watched with probably too much intensity as Pepper took the cupcake and delicately peeled the paper away. She wanted Pepper to like it. Pepper was devastatingly beautiful but could be so adorable and she had perfect teeth and couldn’t eat strawberries and May liked her. So. She wanted Pepper to like the cupcake she’d made just for her.

“Oh,” Pepper said at the first bite, surprised. “That’s―wow! I thought it would be too sweet with the chocolate and the cherry together, but―It’s perfect? Incredible,” she breathed, and took another bite. “Mm! And the frosting is really good, too!”

May beamed at her. “I’m glad you like it!”

“This is better than any other cupcake I’ve ever eaten,” Pepper said around another mouthful, and she honestly looked a little teary about it. “This was so good, I can’t believe it! And it won’t make me sick!”

“If you don’t slow down, it might,” May teased, smitten. She began boxing up the rest of the cupcakes.

Pepper frowned at her, confused, then jumped a little, delighted. “Oh! They’re all for me! My tailor might hate me a little but I for one am not sorry about this at all. How much are they?”

“They’ve been paid for,” May said, shrugging.

Pepper frowned again. “What? Come on, I know that gluten-free ingredients can be expensive, and you went out of your way to make these special just for me…”

May shrugged again. “Paid for.”

“...By whom,” Pepper asked, narrowing her eyes skeptically.

May pointed at Tony, who had been making a very discreet break for the door. “He did, because I told him that I’d smoothed things over with you and he mistakenly believes I saved his business relationship with you.”

Tony yelped when Pepper turned to set him straight and bolted out the door. She followed him, determined.

“Tony wait it’s two o’clock,” May choked out.

“Holy shit,” Pepper squeaked as what looked like a small horse plowed into Tony, knocking him ass over teakettle.

“Steve always takes his dog for a walk at two o’clock,” May sighed, covering her face.

Pepper stared from where she stood halfway to the door. “That’s a horse.”

“Great Dane,” May explained, smiling a little.

Pepper continued to stare. “Should I help him?”

May watched as Steve frantically tried to pull his dog away even though they were roughly the same size. Tony looked resigned down where the dog was licking him. “No,” she finally said. “Maybe now he’ll learn.”

“He doesn’t strike me as the type to learn easily,” Pepper mused.

“He isn’t,” May confirmed, and then slid another cupcake across the counter. “Have another.”

“You’re gonna make me fat,” Pepper said, turning to accept it. She did not look perturbed by this in the slightest as she peeled the wrapper back.

May smiled. “Oh no, I guess we’ll just have to go jogging together to keep the pounds from creeping up.”

“Oh, you jog, too?” Pepper asked. “I always go in the evenings. We could meet up? Is Central Park too far for you? I don’t mind driving out here if you have a route you like.”

May’s smile froze on her face. Oh God. She’d been joking. She opened her mouth to weakly tell her so, but then closed it again, thoughtful. Pepper was very pretty. This way she could perhaps gauge her interest. And if she passed out while jogging, maybe Pepper would give her mouth-to-mouth.

“Central Park is fine! I’ll meet you at West Ninetieth?” May offered.

“Oh, I love the Reservoir path,” Pepper replied happily. “I don’t get off work until five, but I could spring to buy you dinner afterward if you want?”

“It’s a date!” May answered cheerfully.

“A date,” Pepper confirmed, smiling, and took the box May handed her. She saluted her with the cupcake. “Thanks for the cupcakes! I’ll definitely order again!”

“Looking forward to it!” May called after her, smitten. She sighed, leaning her cheek on her hand as she watched Pepper step over Tony and stride away. A date.

Then May squawked and bolted out the door, shoving Steve’s Great Dane away and grabbing Tony by the shirt, shaking him. “Tony what do I wear to go jogging?!”

“You don’t jog,” Tony mumbled, confused.

“Sorry,” Steve said as May tugged Tony up onto his feet. “I’m really working with him in training but we’re not quite there yet―”

“It’s okay,” Tony sighed, then looked at May in confusion. “You don’t jog.”

“I have a jogging date with Pepper,” May began, and then sighed when he pointed in her face and laughed. “I know! This is going to be the worst! But I’ll do it if it means I can figure out whether she likes women or not!”

“Who, Ms. Potts?” Steve asked.

Tony and May turned to stare at him.

Steve frowned. “She’s the one who gave me the loan for my tattoo shop. She likes my art. She lets me do tons of experimental work on her.”

“Pepper has tattoos?!” May sputtered, then groaned and hid her face in Tony’s shoulder. “I’m so gay. I wish I had Ben’s confidence. He wasn’t even a little put off that I didn’t realize we were dating until our one month anniversary and he got me a nice necklace.”

“If it helps, Pepper has mentioned being a useless lesbian, whatever that means,” Steve offered. “So go for it I guess?”

“I’ll babysit Peter if you want a… long night,” Tony offered.

“I’ll probably need it since I’ve never jogged before in my life and will end up in the hospital,” May sighed.

“I could bring takeout or something to keep you and Peter company,” Steve added quickly when Tony turned to give her a blank stare. “To make up for Shrimp. Knocking you down. ...Twice…”

Tony turned to give Steve his blank stare instead. “Your dog’s name is Shrimp?”

“He was the runt,” Steve said defensively.

May tugged at Tony’s sleeve impatiently. “Tony, please, I need to know what to wear. Also should I wear a nice bra if I’m going to die?”

“You’ll chafe,” Tony scoffed. “Bake me a cake and I’ll figure out a cute running outfit for you.”

“What is it with you and cake,” May hissed as she let him lead her back into her shop. “Don’t get Thai food because Tony’s allergic to peanuts!” she added to Steve, who brightened up at her tacit permission to hang out with Tony and Peter.

“It’s only a mild allergy,” Tony whined.

“How about Chinese instead,” Steve offered before the door shut on him.

May gave him a thumbs up through the glass while Tony immediately began swiping through his phone to find the nearest fitness clothes store. It figured that the first time someone that was actually Tony’s type asked him out, he wouldn’t notice. If Steve was smart, he’d leave Shrimp at home and flirt with Tony properly while Peter frowned at both of them judgmentally. Speaking of Peter…

_ I’ve managed at least a friendly date with Pepper-the-cutie but may die during jogging so if I do, you’ll go into Tony’s care, _ she texted him. As an afterthought, she added,  _ And Steve will bring you guys food. Be nice because Steve is clearly enamored and Tony has no idea. _

_ Ugh, _ Peter responded.  _ I can’t even make fun of them a little? Also congrats on your maybe romantic date please don’t die. _

May lifted her head to watch Tony stab at his phone while muttering about hot assholes with sleeves of tattoos and giant asshole dogs that knocked him over.  _ You can make fun of them on Snap, just don’t do it to their faces because Tony’s skittish. _

_ Cool I’ll take pictures of them mooning after each other, good luck with your date, _ Peter replied, along with several heart and kiss emoji.

May smiled down at her phone. Then she yelped when Tony came over and grabbed her boobs. “Tony what the fu ―”

“Thirty-six C,” he mumbled, and then left with a harried, “I’m picking up some clothes but wear old shoes tonight instead of the new ones I’m buying you so you don’t get too many blisters.”

May watched him go, still somewhat offended, but this time for the fact that he’d apparently figured out what bra to get her. How was he able to tell her bra size just from a quick squeeze? She couldn’t even figure out her bra size when she went shopping. She huffed and rolled her eyes, amused, and rolled up her sleeves so she could get started on a matcha swiss roll for Tony.

.-.-.-.

May didn’t die, and Pepper sprang for sushi. May sprang for a kiss at the end of the night.

“Oh thank God I had no idea if you liked women,” Pepper sighed, relieved, and pulled her in for another kiss.

May laughed against her mouth and wrapped her arms around Pepper’s back.

She could swear that Pepper still tasted like chocolate and cherries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to support your local small businesses! :V


	23. Bucky Barnes/James Rhodes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be real honest with you guys, I had no idea what this AU meant.

Imprinting AU

“Tony,” Jim said.

“Pooh Bear,” Tony replied. “Love muffin. Apple of my eye. My main squEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” he shrieked when he turned around and found his best friend had a familiar, angry-looking shadow.

“I’m going to be polite and not mention the pitch you just hit because I need help,” Jim said. Tony continued to stare at The-Asset-slash-The-Winter-Soldier-slash-James-Buchanan-Barnes-slash-Bucky in mild horror. Jim didn’t blame him. “So uh. This guy’s been following me around for like… six hours.”

“You’ve been here for six hours and didn’t say hello to me?” Tony asked, fear immediately on the back-burner in place of offense. “Platypus!”

“I needed to ask Steve somethin’,” Jim said, shrugging. “Anyway, this guy was there with Steve and he just started… following me. I know you’re still kind of upset with him so I didn’t want to bring him down so I thought I’d spend some time with him since that’s clearly what he wanted, right? Except, uh… he hasn’t stopped following me since.”

“First of all I am not still upset with him,” Tony lied. He was, but he wasn’t gonna hold that against the guy. He’d been tortured for seventy years, and Steve had taken him aside and told him about everything, so. He was working on it. But he didn’t actually hold it against Bucky. “Second of all this is mine,” he added to Bucky sternly, taking Jim’s arm. “You already have a best friend! You can’t have this one too!”

Bucky gave Tony an impressive bitch-face. He said nothing.

Tony narrowed his eyes at him, calculating.

“Hey whoa whatever you’re thinking you better not,” Jim cut in immediately, stern. That was the expression Tony got whenever he was considering if a lawsuit would be worth it. He turned back to Bucky. “Listen, bud, I wanna hang out with Tony for a little while, okay?”

“Okay,” Bucky said. He didn’t move.

“...Alone,” Jim continued.

Bucky looked supremely unimpressed as he looked Tony up and down, but he eventually said, “Alright.” Then he turned and left.

“What the fuck was that,” Tony exploded as soon as the doors had shut after him. “He looked at me like I wasn’t good enough for you! And I mean maybe he’s right, but―”

“Cut that out,” Jim scolded, cuffing the back of his head. “You’re my best friend and you’re always good enough.” He pulled Tony into his arms, stroking one hand through his hair to take some of the sting out of the cuff he’d given him. “And no weirdo who overuses eye shadow is gonna make me think different.”

Tony snuggled up against his chest, greedily soaking up the hug.

Jim noticed movement in the corner of his eye and turned his head. Bucky was peering at them through the safety glass, expression speculative. Jim scowled at him and turned so he could no longer see Tony. What a fucking weirdo.

.-.-.-.

Bucky was following him again.

“Is this some weird serum thing, do you think?” Jim asked thoughtfully.

Tony looked up from filing his nails, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, Steve follows you around all the time,” Jim reasoned. “Maybe it’s a serum thing? They find the smartest person available and just follow them around to try and figure out the new century?”

“Steve doesn’t follow me around,” Tony said, bewildered.

Jim watched as Steve sidled up beside Bucky in the kitchen. Both of them were watching him and Tony in the living room. Steve, at least, was pretending to make a sandwich. Bucky had been staring at them with a cup between his hands that had stopped steaming forty minutes ago. Steve always seemed to be in the kitchen when Tony was in the living room. But sure, he wasn't following Tony around at all.

“I wonder if we went someplace dumb, they’d follow us,” Jim mused.

“I’ll go put on shoes,” Tony said immediately.

Jim snorted as he catapulted himself off the couch to fetch his shoes. In the kitchen, he watched Steve look between the elevator and the skeleton of his sandwich like a lost puppy. Eventually, he finally decided to continue making his sandwich. He’d never seen anyone look so goddamn sad while making a sandwich. It was hilarious.

“We should go get mud masks!” Tony exclaimed excitedly as he burst back out of the elevator. “One time Natasha and I put on clay masks and Steve just made confused sounds at us! I’m pretty sure he still doesn’t understand why we ‘put dirt on our faces on purpose.’”

Jim ran a hand over cheek thoughtfully. “I  _ have _ noticed the bags under my eyes have been kinda big lately. Maybe some of those gel eye masks, too?”

Tony rubbed his hands together gleefully. “This is gonna be the best! Come on hurry up I’m excited now!”

“Okay,” Jim replied, amused, and watched as Steve and Bucky came to peer at them from around the edge of the wall as they waited for the elevator door to shut.

When they walked off the elevator at the ground floor, the door to the stairwell opened and Bucky and Steve came walking out. They were sharing the sandwich.

“I want my nails done, too, I only got them half done,” Tony added, examining his nails. “I’m thinking something subtle. Would gold be too much?”

“That’s what you think is subtle, huh?” Jim replied, amused. “When I think of subtle, I think of really pale pink.  _ Maybe _ with shimmer, if you can’t stand the idea of not having sparkles.”

Tony continued examining his nails. “Pink? I could pull off pink.”

“Maybe I’ll try purple,” Jim mused.

Later that night, Steve and Bucky were both teased for their pink and purple nails, respectively. Jim privately thought the polish looked better on them than either of the super soldiers but he wasn’t going to kick them when they were down; they’d been so polite and terrified when they’d gotten their nails done, after all.

.-.-.-.

Jim had never been a fan of the opera, but Tony enjoyed it, and  _ La bohème _ was interesting enough that he wasn’t too put out by going. It helped that he could watch Steve and Bucky squirm, trying to stay engaged with the story, in the seats below.

Bucky’s head dipped as if he was dozing off. Steve thumped him and he sat back up with a snort.

The best thing about  _ La bohème _ , Jim decided, was that it was three hours long and he could spend all of it watching Steve do whatever he could to keep Bucky awake that wouldn’t upset the other opera-goers in the seats around them. Steve gave up for about twenty minutes at one point and then the music had swelled and Bucky had obviously snorted himself awake, if the scandalized look from the woman next to him was anything to go by. He looked entirely unrepentant.

Jim kinda liked that, he realized. Oh no.

.-.-.-.

“We could have just watched  _ Rent _ instead of coming out to the opera,” Jim said, because he knew how much Tony hated when he said it.

“Shut up,” Tony scoffed.

“I could have worn my pajamas,” Jim continued, trying and failing not to smile. “Instead of putting on this monkey suit.”

Tony sniffed at him in disdain and reached out to brush imaginary dust from his shoulder. “I think you look nice in a suit.”

“I think you chose this opera specifically because you knew how long it was and you wanted to make Steve and Bucky squirm,” Jim declared.

Tony shrugged. He did not deny it and he did not look remorseful in the least. “At least they’re finally wearing the suits I bought them when they first moved in. Like casting pearls before swine. I don’t know why I put up with them.”

Jim turned to give Tony a supremely unimpressed frown. “Because you’ve always been a sucker for a man shaped like an upside-down corn chip, Tony.”

“Wh? How di. Who wo. I’ll have you know I showed restraint and haven’t mentioned Steve’s Dorito proportions to him at all,” Tony sputtered. “I can’t believe you’d. How dare. Why, I. Of all the slander!”

“It’s okay, Tony,” Jim said, patting him on the shoulder. “I know that you’ve got the emotional maturity of an ill-socialized chihuahua but I love you anyway.”

“A chihuahua?” Tony gasped, offended.

“Oh look there’s Steve and Bucky now,” Jim said. “Hey guys! It’s late and I felt bad making you guys take a cab after suffering through the opera.”

“Suffering?!” Tony squawked.

Steve huffed. “I, for one, enjoyed it! I would have enjoyed it more if  _ someone _ hadn’t kept falling asleep and snoring,” he added, turning to give Bucky some pretty lethal side-eye.

“Maybe they shouldn’t have been such hoity-toity assholes,” was all Bucky replied.

Tony looked scandalized. Jim decided to save Bucky the suffering, turning toward Steve and suggesting, “Why don’t you and Tony discuss what you liked about the opera and Bucky and I will talk about how we could have been home in our pajamas?”

“I could have been at home in my pajamas instead of sitting through this snooze-fest?” Bucky asked, affronted.

“We’ll take a cab,” Jim said hastily when Tony drew himself up as if to give a mighty scolding. He stuffed Tony into the limo and then shoved Steve in after him.

“I could have been at home in my pajamas? You didn’t even  _ like _ that thing?” Bucky repeated, outraged. “I put on a suit, Rhodes!”

“Yes, and you look very handsome,” Jim cut in. “It’s a nice suit.”

Bucky frowned and looked over his shoulder as he followed him into a cab. “Really? I thought my butt looked kinda dumb.”

“Well of course it does, because you don’t have one,” Jim scoffed. “I was talking about your shoulders and your thighs.”

Bucky turned to look at him, affronted but also flattered. He decided to go with the affront because it was more familiar. “I have a butt! Maybe not like Stark, but I have to sit on something, there’s not just empty space there!”

“You don’t have a butt, you have a concave space where a lap goes,” Jim retorted.

Bucky glared at him for a minute, then smirked. “Oh? Are you inviting me to sit on your lap?”

“Maybe. What if I am?” Jim asked slyly.

“Excuse me,” the driver of the cab said, and they jumped. He shoved his hand at them. “Please don’t do that in my cab. Please. Also take these. Be safe.”

Jim held his hands out, and the cab driver dropped something into his hands. He examined it and blushed a little. He’d been given a handful of condoms.

“...Thanks,” Bucky squeaked after a minute.

“No problem. Be safe,” the cab driver said again.

Jim continued to stare at the condoms for a minute before he said, “Man, I’m gonna be so embarrassed when I tell Tony what happened. He’s never gonna let me live this down.”

Bucky frowned at him. “You don’t have to tell him.”

“No, I’m gonna,” Jim replied.

Bucky stared at him, uncomprehending.

Tony laughed so hard he snorted his soda out of his nose when Jim told him what happened in the cab.

.-.-.-.

Natasha and Sam were laughing.

Jim squinted at them suspiciously as he shuffled into the kitchen but decided to ignore them in favor of the mug of coffee Bucky was offering him. This was a relatively new development, and he was pretty sure Bucky didn’t even like coffee and just drank it because he did. But if it meant coffee would be ready and waiting for him, he didn’t see a problem with it.

“Oh my God,” Sam wheezed, putting his head on the counter. “Natasha told me about this but I didn’t believe her!”

Natasha fell off the stool she was sitting on, crying with laughter.

Well, that probably wasn’t good, Jim thought. Natasha wasn’t one to laugh much. He wondered what they were laughing about.

“Bucky really  _ did _ sexually imprint on you,” Sam continued, then threw his head back with a bark of laughter and fell from his stool as well.

Jim frowned down at them, unimpressed.

“I didn’t… it wasn’t imprinting,” Bucky tried to explain desperately. “I just… liked you and wanted to do things you liked, so.”

“I wonder if it’s a serum thing,” Jim wondered again. “Because Steve’s been doing that to Tony, too.”

Bucky frowned at him, confused. “You. You aren’t mad?”

“Why would I be mad, you’re cute,” Jim said. “Also this way I can always be assured to have the better butt out of the two of us.”

“Hey!” Bucky squawked.

“You’re allowed to touch it if we’re dating,” Jim pointed out.

Bucky closed his mouth, looking equally delighted and put-out and pissed off about those two things. “...Steve doesn’t follow Tony around like I did,” he finally mumbled.

Jim stared out into the living room where Steve was handing Tony his own cup of coffee along with a plate of blueberry pancakes. He looked at Bucky in disgust.

“Oh, maybe it is a serum thing,” Bucky said after watching Steve feed a very smug-looking Tony with his own fork.

“Unbelievable,” Jim muttered, rolling his eyes, then leaned over to nudge his shoulder. “Well, are we gonna go make them jealous over how cute we are, or what? You can sit in my lap.”

Bucky immediately grabbed his arm to tow him over to the living room and stuff him into the recliner so that he could sit on his lap. Steve and Tony looked offended. Jim smirked at them.

“Oh, I see,” Tony said grimly. “We’ll just have to see which one of us sickens Clint the most.”

“What,” Steve and Bucky said, but Jim and Tony were already glaring competitive daggers at each other.

.-.-.-.

“I really think all of you are gross but Tony ekes out the win by a hair because he called Steve his ‘shmoopsie’ without even a hint of irony when Steve got up to get him a second serving of cake,” Clint said after a few months.

Jim swore softly. He always knew Tony’s nicknames were going to bite him in the butt. He just thought it would be with military brass and not over who was the most sickeningly sweet couple in the tower. Well. At least he got the handsomer super soldier.


	24. Steve/Natasha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in a dystopian world where Hydra had a chance to grow large and formidable before attacking, and now there are Avenger settlements throughout the world, defending against Hydra’s attacks and working to take back territory from Hydra.

Dystopian AU

When they were growing up, they thought they’d always be together.

Their borough was small, but it had heavy defenses, and they battled back Hydra again and again with little damage on their side. Still, some casualties were unavoidable, and Natasha lost her parents in a particularly vicious battle. Steve lost his father in the same fight. Natasha was six, and Sarah helped her pack a bag, and Steve had taken her hand, and they had all gone back to the Rogers apartment.

Natasha was quiet for quite some time afterward, but Steve wasn’t deterred, chattering away to fill the empty apartment while his mother was gone doing Her Share, showing Natasha how to twist wool into yarn for the Weavers. He talked about how he wanted to be a Defender but since his dad died doing that very thing, his ma had forbidden it. He figured he could find something else to do with meaning. His friend Bucky was being considered for a Tinkerer position. He thought maybe he could be a Tinkerers Guard.

“I think you’d be good at it,” Natasha murmured, the first words she’d said unbidden since they’d brought her home with them.

Steve beamed at her. “You think so?”

“Yes,” Natasha said, and nothing else, even when he tried to wheedle her for what she thought she might do when she was old enough.

.-.-.-.

Steve and Bucky were a few years older than Natasha, so they were given jobs when they turned ten. Bucky was approved to become a Tinkerer. Steve became a Tinkers Guard.

Natasha twisted wool into yarn for the Weavers and wondered what she wanted to do. Jobs were limited for women. She thought maybe she could be a Weaver. She liked seeing the yarn she made getting turned into blankets and clothes. But Sarah had also mentioned taking her as an apprentice and teaching her medicine, and she liked the idea of healing the people hurt by Hydra, like Sarah had done for her. And if it came down to it, if she didn’t test well anywhere else, she thought she could be one of the Nannies.

And then one day they were at the Market getting their weekly allotment of produce, and a man shouted, “Hail Hydra!” and then opened fire on the shopping crowd.

Natasha felt blood splatter against her cheek and turned her eyes away from the man to look up at Sarah. Sarah was clutching a wound on her side, and she grabbed Natasha with a shout, shoving her behind the squash stall they’d been picking from.

Sarah shouted, “Stay down, Natasha!” just before she was knocked down by another shot through her stomach.

Sarah gave directions through blood-coated lips, and Natasha managed to follow them long enough for other Medics to come after the Hydra soldier was brought down. The Medics brushed her off when she tried to tell them what Sarah had told her, barked at her to just let them work, so she watched as they got Sarah stable, and then carried her away for more treatment.

Natasha stayed behind the squash stall like she’d been told, until Steve found her there.

“They think Ma’s gonna be okay,” Steve said as he gently took her hand in his like he had just a few years ago. “Ma says it’s all thanks to you. Thinks you’ll be a good Medic.”

Natasha remembered the hate on the man’s face as he’d shouted allegiance to Hydra before opening fire on a helpless, civilian crowd and knew that she wouldn’t be following in Sarah’s footsteps.

.-.-.-.

When Natasha was ten, she quietly went to the testing center and approached a woman with her hair pulled into a tight bun and a black outfit. There was an hourglass tattooed on the inside of her left pointer finger. “I want to be a Black Widow,” she informed the woman.

“You have to take the test just like everyone else,” the woman said flippantly, not even looking at her.

Natasha tipped her head back to make eye contact with her, determined. “I want to be a Black Widow.”

“Only a select few from each year are selected for the Black Widow program,” the woman said, clearly dismissing her. “If you score well on your test, perhaps you’ll be considered.”

Natasha set her jaw angrily, but swallowed that anger back down. Black Widows were unflappable. Cold. Calculating. “I will be a Black Widow,” she told the woman firmly.

The woman finally deigned to drop her attention to her instead of the crowd. She took a moment to consider her, head tilted thoughtfully, before the corner of her mouth tipped up just-so. “Even I had to take the test before I was accepted, little one.”

Natasha sat through the aptitude test, doing nothing but writing her name at the top. She did not answer any questions, instead staring at the clock, waiting for the hour to be up.

As soon as the proctor said to put down their pencils, the woman Natasha had talked to came in, took her by the hand, and pulled her aside to take her to the Widows’ Matron.

Sarah cried when she found out, but Natasha was determined. Hydra had stolen her parents. Hydra had tried to steal Sarah right in front of her. Bucky was a Tinkerer, and Steve protected him, so it was only a matter of time before Hydra tried to steal them too.

So she would jam as many cogs in the Hydra machine as she could to try and keep them safe.

She quietly endured grueling training, strict diets and unforgiving exercise regimens. She let Sarah ice her aching muscles, and she let Steve feed her dinner when she was too tired to feed herself, and she watched with quiet, questioning eyes every time Bucky showed her something new that he’d made, like a clockwork toy to prove he knew cogs and wheels or a model of a possible armored vehicle to go between boroughs. She slept when she could and practiced when she couldn’t, bloody blisters healing over into hard calluses until she finally got her skills on point, and then she practiced some more.

When she finally came home with the Black Widows’ hourglass emblem tattooed on the inside of her left pointer finger, skin still raised and feverish, Sarah and Steve scrimped together enough sugar and flour to make her a cupcake. It didn’t have icing, but Steve made a glaze with orange juice.

It was better than anything she’d ever eaten before.

.-.-.-.

Natasha was out on a mission when Hydra converged en masse on their borough. When she finally got back to Brooklyn, the survivors were rebuilding the walls and burying the dead. Others were packing to go to other, safer boroughs. Natasha couldn’t blame them.

“Sarah?” she asked, voice cracking, when she finally found Steve. It had been a trial, figuring out where he was. Tinkerers were guarded more stubbornly than anyone else, and their guards were just a step below that.

Steve didn’t look up from digging. “She didn’t die in the attack. She was sick before you left.”

“Why didn’t she tell me?” Natasha asked, hurt. “They would have given my assignment to someone else. If I’d said she was sick, they wouldn’t have made me go.”

“Ma wanted you to go,” Steve said. “She didn’t want you to see her suffer. That second gunshot wound she got when we were kids never quite healed right. She hid it as long as she could, but eventually she had to tell me what was wrong.” He finally lifted his head. His eyes were red and swollen. “Natasha, they had inside information. They went for the Tinkerers first, and then they went for the Black Widows. If you’d been here, you would have been one of the first wiped out. I was so angry with Ma when she died, because I knew you’d want to be here. But Natasha, she saved your life by letting you go.”

“Steve,” Natasha whispered, eyes filling with tears.

Steve dropped the shovel to approach her, wrapping his arms around her tight enough that she knew she’d have bruises, but she didn’t care, clutching back just as tight. “She saved your life, Natasha,” he whispered back, voice cracking. “And I’m… I’m so glad she passed before this happened, so she didn’t have to see this.”

“What about Bucky?” Natasha asked softly. “Is he―did he―”

“He and a few of the other younger Tinkerers escaped while the older guys held Hydra back,” Steve answered. “They’re being held at a second location as the Council decides whether to relocate them or not.” He leaned back, hands going to her shoulders, and swallowed thickly. “You should. You should go check on the other Widows. I wasn’t… I’m not part of that unit, so they wouldn’t tell me anything. I don’t know what happened to the Black Widows.”

Natasha leaned in to press her forehead to his chest. “Don’t make me go yet. Please.”

Steve swallowed thickly and pulled her back into a hug. He hadn’t just been angry at his ma for a while―he’d been angry at Natasha, too, for leaving. It had only been the shock of learning so many Black Widows had been killed that he’d become grateful for her mission, even though it wasn’t guaranteed that she’d survive the mission itself, either. Seeing her here, now, all the anger and fear melted away, and he’d hold her as long as she’d let him.

.-.-.-.

They’d wiped out a majority of the Black Widows. Natasha found Yelena, Nadia, and Ling, and Dr. Kudrin quietly praying over the graves of their fallen sisters. Apparently they’d come for Dr. Kudrin, and the rest of the Black Widows had laid down their lives to protect her.

“Fools,” Dr. Kudrin spat, running her thumb over the tattoo on the inside of her left pointer finger. “The Widows needed young bodies, not an old matron.”

“Should we accept more students this year?” Yelena asked.

Dr. Kudrin shook her head, looking furious, filled with rage and hate and disgust. “Brooklyn has fallen, and soon the Council will see it. The Tinkerers will be sent to other Boroughs. It is up to you to decide what you will do,” she added, voice softening. “We were one of the few Boroughs with a Widow unit. I’m sure any other Black Widow unit would take you with my letter of recommendation. However, if you don’t want to continue on, any guard would be glad to have your skills.”

“What are you guys going to do?” Nadia asked after Dr. Kudrin had limped away, looking much older than any of them ever remembered.

“I think I’ll transfer to another Black Widow unit,” Yelena said, crossing her arms and leaning against the fence to the graveyard. “It’s what I know best.”

“I think I’ll try at being a Tinkerer,” Ying replied thoughtfully. “I was capable in both areas but chose the Black Widows. I think… I think I’d like to try being a Tinkerer, and if I don’t like it, I’ll always have the option of transferring back. It’s easier to transfer out of Tinkering than in.”

Nadia nodded thoughtfully. “I think I’ll go into the Defenders. I don’t think I could do something that didn’t include physical exertion.” She turned to Natasha. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Natasha admitted. She mostly just wanted to follow Steve wherever he went, but she didn’t know if that was a decent answer or not.

Ying put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, giving her a sad smile. “Well, you better think on it. If Dr. Kudrin is right… we don’t have a lot of time to actually decide.”

.-.-.-.

They didn’t. Hydra attacked again while they were still reeling with the carnage that had happened only a few weeks previously. The only choice most people had were to fight or to flee, because Hydra was killing anyone in their paths. They weren’t taking any prisoners this time. Natasha found Steve and Bucky, but barely, would have just missed them if Steve hadn’t stopped to beat a stray Hydra soldier to death with his bare hands.

“Steve, we need to go,” Bucky begged, pulling at him. “We need to go! Before more of them come!”

“Steve,” Natasha said sharply. “We need to go.”

“You two go on ahead,” Steve ordered.

“Steve!” Natasha snapped, and Steve seemed to shake himself, head clearing as he let them pull him away.

But as they traveled, it became clear that something in Steve had changed, edges sharper, anger quicker to flare. He took on anyone who wanted to be part of the group regardless of whether it would slow him down. And then when they were outside one of the Boroughs, he said wasn’t going inside.

“What do you mean you’re not going inside?!” Bucky sputtered.

“You all can go,” Steve said calmly. “But I’m going after Hydra.”

“As a Nomad?!” Natasha exclaimed angrily. “Steve! You know how quickly they get picked off by Hydra!”

Steve’s shoulders straightened and his jaw tightened the way they always had when he’d seen someone getting bullied. “I can’t go in there. Not yet.”

“Steve!” Natasha exclaimed again, grabbing his arm. “You know Sarah wouldn’t want this for you! She’d want you to be safe!”

“Well Ma isn’t here to want anything, is she?!” Steve spat.

Natasha took a step back, stunned, his arm slipping through her fingers. It occurred to her that their roles had suddenly reversed, and she had no idea what to do about it.

When she’d been younger, Natasha had wanted nothing more than to leave their Borough to hunt down Hydra, take them out whenever she could. She’d wanted to hurt Hydra for taking away her family. Steve had wanted to stay and protect them. Now Steve was the one full of rage and hurt, he was the one wanting revenge, and all Natasha wanted to do was hold the fraying edges of her family together.

Steve wanted to take from Hydra, and Natasha wanted to keep her family close, and she realized, heart breaking, that nothing she could say would make Steve change his mind. Not with the hurt so fresh.

So she leaned in, pressed a kiss to his lips, and then turned her back on him to go to the Borough, unwilling to watch anyone else she loved die. At least she could rest easy knowing that Bucky was with Steve to try and temper some of that rage. Besides, it would be safer for Steve to have a Tinkerer nearby.

And it had been childish of them to ever think that they’d always be together, anyway.

.-.-.-.

The new Borough was run much differently than Brooklyn had been.

There were no tests, no assigned roles. People helped where they could, filling any empty spaces. Hydra rarely attacked them because the push-back they got was so immense, and Natasha realized with a jolt that it wasn’t because anyone had a duty to anyone else, but because these people genuinely liked each other and didn’t want them to get hurt.

She was told to stand back and observe the next time Hydra attacked, and she watched in awe as groups banded together to face them like her people never had.

“We’re worse in some ways,” a woman with kind eyes said. “We’re larger than most Boroughs, which spreads our Defenders thin, so small skirmishes can really hurt our numbers more than if we were smaller and more compact. But when one of us falls, we’re all the more vicious. No one Borough is better than the other,” she added thoughtfully. “We all have our strengths and weaknesses. But one thing we have on our side is that we’re loyal to each other in times of need. Hydra knows nothing but survival of the fittest, and in the end, it will be their downfall.”

Natasha wondered if she’d ever get to see it, the downfall of Hydra. Her parents hadn’t. Her grandparents hadn’t. Her great and greater grandparents hadn’t. Maybe her children wouldn’t either. But she hoped to leave behind a legacy they could at least be proud of.

They didn’t have Black Widows in this Borough. She was sort of lost, drifting along to see if there might be something similar she could do, or a hole that she’d be comfortable filling like everyone else there. She felt useless, but everyone met her with kind eyes, gave her small jobs to earn her keep instead of just giving to her.

“Brooklyn’s loss is felt across every Borough. They were one of the oldest Boroughs we had, and to know it’s fallen is horrible. But we can’t let our losses hold us back. We mourn, but we move forward,” an old man had told her grimly one day, hand on his heart, and something eased in her at the words. Her home had fallen, but it wasn’t forgotten.

It made it easier to find a hole to fill.

“Oh,” a man said when she stopped to pick up some oranges that had fallen from his basket. “You didn’t need to do that. My mother would have helped me.”

“I thought it would be kinder to help than walk by,” Natasha replied, because she’d seen him struggling to keep up with his mother and juggle two baskets for food. He had a limp, but he didn’t seem self-conscious about it. Still, he’d looked so dismayed when the fruit had fallen, it had been clear that bending to pick them up would have been a chore.

“Oh!” the man said again when she placed the oranges back in his basket and he saw the hourglass tattooed on her finger. “A Black Widow! I’ve heard about you! You were part of the elite guard back in Brooklyn, right?”

Natasha was about to tell him no, but stopped herself. Perhaps, to outsiders, they really looked like that. It was kind of nice to hear, after hearing the whispers behind hands about how they were cruel, and heartless, and too secretive to be trusted, and how could they know it hadn’t been the Black Widows who had betrayed them to Hydra in the first place. “Something like that,” she finally managed.

“Neat!” the man exclaimed, and Natasha couldn’t help but smile. “I’m Tony!” he added, and when he realized he didn’t have a hand free to shake, just nudged shoulders with her. “I’m a Tinkerer, if it makes any difference to you. I know a lot of Boroughs have very strict lines they can’t cross, but here we’re different.”

“I can tell,” Natasha replied, amused, and then held a hand out. “May I take one of your baskets?”

“Sure, if you want to,” Tony answered guilelessly. “Do you have an allowance yet? I know refugees are still trickling in from Brooklyn so supplies are a bit scant. You’re welcome to come eat with us tonight!”

Natasha looked at the food filling the baskets and marveled at it being considered  _ scant _ . Still, Tony was looking up at her with no expectations of what she should be doing or how she should act. So she nodded once, sharply, and said, “It would be my privilege.”

Tony beamed at her and opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by his mother calling, “Tony! I’m so sorry, did I leave you behind again?”

“No, I stopped to talk to someone!” Tony called back, and then turned back to Natasha, still smiling. “Mama sometimes forgets I can’t move as fast in crowds.”

“We’d better catch up then,” Natasha replied, and Tony nudged shoulders with her again before he turned to follow his mother further into the market.

Tinkerers didn’t have dedicated guards in this Borough. Natasha sort of became Tony’s anyway.

.-.-.-.

It shouldn’t have surprised her, years later, that Tony decided they were going to take back the Brooklyn Borough.

“It was one of the oldest Boroughs,” he explained as Natasha tried to wipe all of the juice she’d spit on herself in shock off with a napkin. He was staring up at a diagram he’d drawn, lips pursed, hands on his hips, chalk smudged over his left eyebrow. “It used to be about the size of our Borough until Hydra carved pieces out of it. The winters are cold enough that Hydra goes dormant up here, or retreat down to the peninsula. If we waited until the first cold snap and worked until the first thaw, we could get Brooklyn defensible again.”

“This sounds like the worst idea,” Natasha said after some thought. “Your parents would allow you to carry this out?”

“We’re getting spread thin here with the population boom and the refugees,” Tony said grimly. “My dad and I have done the math. We either need to expand or we need to transplant. An expansion that would be as defensible as our walls right now is unfeasible. We presented our findings to the Council. They said they’d put out the word to the population for volunteers to go to resettle Brooklyn.

“Those who stay will have to tighten their belts so that those of us going to Brooklyn will have all the supplies they need to rebuild. But once we have Brooklyn back and thriving, we could work on uniting our Boroughs so we’re a stronger Mega Borough, like they have over on the west coast and up north. Once that’s done, we can focus on taking territory back from Hydra and push them out once and for all.”

Natasha frowned up at the diagram. She didn’t understand most of what went on in Tony’s head. Hadn’t really understood what went on in Bucky’s head, either, but she got the notion that few Tinkerers were actually as smart as Tony and Howard Stark. But if they thought it could work, they were probably right. She wasn’t going to naysay their hard work, especially after watching them spend night after night together, bent over a table, sometimes openly weeping as they realized they would no longer be able to provide for anymore people and would either have to start turning refugees away or start rationing more heavily.

“In Brooklyn, we had a role called the Tinkerers Guard,” Natasha said slowly, calculating.

Tony turned to face her, silent, because she so rarely talked about her time there. It obviously hurt her to remember.

“...I will be your Guard,” she finally decided. She turned toward him. “If you believe it’s possible, then I believe in you. So I will protect you so that you can see the project through.”

“Natasha,” Tony said, looking like he wanted to deny her.

“You’ve said that the Borough depends on this,” Natasha said, tone brooking no argument. “And I saw that the Borough depends on you to see it through. So I will make sure that you can.”

Tony ducked his head, looking humbled and upset, but finally he managed a soft, “Okay.”

Natasha grabbed his shoulders and squeezed. She was not going to let any more her friends wander into Hydra territory and lose them. She would protect what she had to her dying breath.

.-.-.-.

Brooklyn hadn’t been quite finished by the time Hydra had returned, but they hadn’t been expecting the number of occupants in the Borough as had been there, so they hadn’t fought long, just pressing in, testing, before retreating to regroup.

Hydra still managed to kidnap two Tinkerers and steal an entire wagon of seedlings.

Natasha would have gone after just the seedlings, because Tony said they were imperative to Brooklyn becoming self-sufficient. But when she’d learned that one of the Tinkerers taken had been Tony, no one would have been able to stop her from chasing Hydra down anyway. Tony wasn’t just her friend―if his ideas fell into Hydra’s hands, she was certain it would turn the tide in Hydra’s favor. Tony was aware of that, too; he had made her swear to kill him if rescue wasn’t possible, after all.

She almost ran straight into Steve as she approached the Hydra encampment.

“Oh,” Natasha said, surprised, and then fell silent.

Steve looked older. He had longer hair. A beard. These were not… horrible on him. However, the tired eyes, the general downturn of his mouth as if he had not smiled in the years since Brooklyn fell, the dejected fall of his shoulders… this was not the same Steve she’d left behind. This was not the same Steve who had taken her hand when she was six and led her to her new home, her new family.

“What are you doing here?” Steve asked gruffly.

“None of your business,” Natasha snapped back.

Steve drew himself up, then winced and sagged onto the ground with a wounded noise.

And Natasha resented him, but she also still loved him, so she immediately went to his side to brace him before he fell over.

“Surprised to see you out here so close to Hydra,” Steve said, obviously an attempt at trying to be mean, to wound her. “Thought you’d rather hide behind walls like a coward.”

Natasha ignored it, because she was honestly surprised to see he was still alive at all. “You’re wounded,” was all she replied.

Steve grit his teeth, then gave up, falling back into her arms. “They took Bucky,” he explained miserably. “I had to try and get him back.”

“Mm,” Natasha replied, pulling out the spray Tony had invented to close wounds in an emergency. It wouldn’t last long, but it would numb the pain and stop the bleeding long enough for him to retreat. “‘Til the end of the line, right?”

“He begged me to kill him before they took him and I failed him,” Steve whispered, tears in his eyes.

Natasha set her jaw grimly. Steve was a lot of things, but able to kill one of his oldest friends when he thought he had a chance to save him? He would never have been able to pull that trigger. “Brooklyn is being rebuilt,” she began.

“I know,” Steve whispered, wincing as the spray spread over his abraded skin like ice. “We’d heard, and we were coming to see if we could help in any way when Hydra attacked us. I sent the rest of the group on ahead.”

“Well, if nothing else, they can help to defend the Borough in case Hydra comes back while I’m gone,” Natasha figured.

“I was hoping you would be there,” Steve added.

Natasha jerked her hands back, and Steve let out a soft, agonized sound as he fell to the ground, clutching his wound. “You don’t get to do that,” she said, and she hated herself for the way her voice shook. “You made your choice. Revenge was more important than safety.”

“I wanted to tell you that I was sorry, and maybe you were right,” Steve whispered, curled up on the ground.

“Of course I was right,” Natasha spat, even as her mind raced with the thought that she wasn’t, not entirely. She’d expected Steve to be dead, but here it was a decade later and he was still here, still fighting.

Their roles were reversed again, she realized. Steve was giving up, protecting his heart from anymore hurt, and she was the one about to sneak into a Hydra camp to either steal back or kill her Tinkerer and any Hydra soldier who got in her way. She wondered if they’d ever be on the same side, or if they were doomed to this, opposite sides of a coin that flipped for whatever suited them at the moment.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said.

Natasha turned her back on him again. “Get to Brooklyn. The spray won’t last long,” she snapped, not looking back at him.

.-.-.-.

It must have been a necessity of being a Tinkerer to be infuriatingly stubborn, Natasha thought uncharitably.

Even down one arm and pale with blood loss, Bucky had seen Tony struggling to limp after Natasha and had simply scooped him up with his remaining arm to carry him. “You don’t need two arms to run,” he’d said when Natasha had hissed at him to focus on himself.

_ One thing we have on our side is that we’re loyal to each other in times of need, _ Natasha suddenly remembered a woman with kind eyes saying. Brooklyn had been all about rigid roles and not stepping out of them unless it was an emergency. Maybe that was what Hydra had taken advantage of that caused Brooklyn to fall.

She yelped when the encampment behind them exploded, a plume of smoke billowing up into the sky. Her feet failed her, and she only barely saved herself from eating dirt, turning quickly to watch, aghast, as the Hydra soldiers in the distance rushed to put out the fire while the Tinkerer who had remained behind, insisting she make a distraction, drove the wagon full of saplings back toward Brooklyn.

“It worked!” Bucky exclaimed, giddy, and Tony giggled against his throat, relieved.

Natasha stared at them, then huffed and got back to her feet. “Let’s not lose the advantage this gave us,” she said sharply, but something in her softened at the smug smiles on both of their faces as they obediently turned to keep running.

.-.-.-.

Steve’s group of Nomads had been larger than Natasha thought. “We called ourselves the Howling Commandos,” Bucky explained as Bruce stitched up the cleaned remains of his arm.

“You would,” Natasha said, rolling her eyes.

“You look good,” Bucky added, giving her a long up-and-down. “Way better ‘n me.”

“It’s not hard to look better than someone who is missing an arm and a pint of blood, Bucky,” she informed him sternly.

“Yeah but my hair’s better,” Bucky insisted.

“Looks like the medicine is working,” Bruce said fondly, rolling his eyes. “You should let him rest. He’s clearly the type to keep chattering away if he knows you.”

“He’s the type to keep chattering away if he doesn’t,” Natasha replied, amused, but reached out to squeeze his uninjured shoulder. “Heal up fast, okay? Tony might need some more clever ideas to go with his own.”

Bucky nodded, made a face, then flopped backward. “Sleeping now.”

“Fuck!” Bruce exclaimed angrily. “Idiot! I’m still stitching your fucking arm!”

Natasha quickly left Bucky to his scolding because you only needed to be scolded by Bruce once to know you never wanted it to happen again. She went to find Tony instead, now that she knew Bucky would be alright, scolding from Bruce notwithstanding.

To say that she was upset when she found Steve rubbing up and down Tony’s scarred thigh would be an understatement, but she had been trained not to react with emotions, so she swallowed down her protective rage to observe instead.

“A man who called himself Dr. Erskine taught me this,” Steve was explaining quietly. “It’s supposed to help stretch the scar tissue so it’s not so painful to walk. One of my Commandos got injured and we had to rub his leg like this every morning and evening for three months to make sure he got a full range of motion back.”

“Are you sure you should be doing this?” Tony asked, uncertain. “You’re injured, too―”

Steve shrugged it off. “Doesn’t hurt much.”

Tony looked like he wasn’t certain he believed him.

Natasha  _ definitely _ didn’t believe him, so he came up and pinched his side just so, enough to make him hurt but not enough to render him useless. “Sit down and shut up,” she said sternly, and Steve sighed but obediently let her sit him down on the chair next to Tony. “Idiot. Still as reckless as ever.”

Steve sighed, shoulders sagging, and opened his mouth.

“You wanna talk reckless?!” Tony exclaimed, offended. “You went to take on a Hydra base  _ alone! _ ”

“Yes, but I’m not injured,” Natasha reasoned, and then gave him a sharp look. “I’d like to speak to Steve.  _ Privately _ .”

“Fine, but you’re gonna tell me all the details later,” Tony mumbled petulantly, taking her hand so she could tug him to his feet. He gave her a dirty look over his shoulder as he limped away.

Natasha waved after him, unperturbed. “Take a nap, Tony.”

“I’m not sleepy,” Tony muttered, and stalked off to go tell some of the Commandos what they could do to help hurry along the rebuilding of the walls before Hydra could regroup and come back.

“Spunky,” Steve commented, trying and failing not to sound exhausted.

Natasha turned back to him, frowning in concern, and reached out to run her fingers through his hair before she could stop herself. He tipped his head to lean into it, eyes drifting closed, and let out the softest sound of pleasure. Natasha sighed softly. “Don’t know if the hair and beard suits you,” she said mildly. She remembered all those years ago, when he’d been young and clean-cut and ready to swing. He’d changed a lot since then.

Then again, she thought, so had she.

“You were right,” Steve said after a minute.

Natasha sighed again. “So were you.”

“I wish we could have been right together,” Steve whispered miserably. “I missed you.”

“Leaving you behind to become a Nomad was like having to cut off my right arm,” Natasha admitted quietly. “And I still wonder if it was the right choice.”

Steve looked up at her, smiling sadly. “At the time, it definitely was. I was too angry to see it, but you know me. I’m an idiot.”

“It’s part of your charm,” Natasha teased. “All heart, no brain.” She took the sting out of the statement by running her fingers through his hair again, playing with the bristles at his nape. “You always did have a head for battle,” she mused when he said nothing, instead letting his eyes drift closed to just enjoy her fingers in his hair. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you lasted so long. I bet you’re Hydra’s boogeyman.”

“Might get mentioned around their campfires on full moons,” Steve replied, smirking up at her. “But then, not as much as the Black Widows.”

Natasha tilted her head, conceding. There was a reason Hydra had gone after the Black Widows in the initial surge―they were dangerous because they melted into the shadows and waited for the right moment to strike, sometimes even heedless of their own safety. Natasha had heard that a Black Widow had waited in place for three hours just for the chance to take out a high-ranking general at the cost of her own life. It made sense to take them out first.

“I missed you,” Steve said again, face softening. “The years have been really good to you.”

“In some ways,” Natasha agreed, thinking of the meals she’d gotten that were much larger than in Brooklyn, and the way the Starks had welcomed her in with open arms. “In other ways, they were bad,” she allowed, remembering all the times she’d felt useless, like she was wasting their resources because she didn’t know what to do to earn her keep, or the dark nights when she thought about Steve, so full of anger and hate for Hydra, and how she’d turned her back on him.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said when she finally met his eyes. “That I couldn’t be who you needed me to be all those years ago.”

Natasha nodded. “I’m sorry too,” she replied quietly. But just like she’d never change for him, he’d never change for her, either. It was just the way things were. She brought her hand down to rub her thumb over his beard thoughtfully. “What are you going to do now?”

Steve sighed like a weight had been taken off his shoulders, as if he’d just been waiting for her to ask. To his merit, he mulled the question over a long time. “I wandered because Hydra had stolen my home,” he finally answered. “I couldn’t stand to make a home in a Borough that also might get taken away. I guess that’s selfish, but I couldn’t stand the thought of being a refugee when my home was miles away, cracked open by Hydra. And now that they’re rebuilding… I guess I want to stay. Make sure it’s done right. But better. Tony has all these good ideas to make it safer, more resilient, and I… I want to make Brooklyn my home again.”

“It’s not selfish,” Natasha replied quietly. “You lost so much to protect our Borough, I’m sure it hurt to even think of leaving it behind.”

“You lost so much, too,” Steve said, dropping his head to look down at his clasped hands. “But you still moved on. You could have been happy there.”

“Happy enough, I suppose,” Natasha agreed. “But never as happy as I was when I was with you.”

Steve looked up at her, so mournful that she nearly took a step back in surprise. “I’m sorry that I made you wait.”

Natasha stared down at him for a moment, then reached out to take his hands, running her thumbs over his knuckles, the bruised and battered and wind-scarred skin. “One way or another, we would have made the other wait. I think… I think this way was the best. Neither of us had to sit idly at home, wondering, waiting. You went out and did what you had to do to get back at Hydra, and I found someone else to take care of. Who would take care of me, too.”

“Are… are you and Tony-?” Steve began, swallowing the lump in his throat.

Despite his obvious anguish, Natasha had to snort. “No. Well, we maybe kissed once or twice,” she added, wanting to be upfront with him. “But that was mostly loneliness. It’s hard being the smartest Tinkerer in the Borough,” she explained. “Or the only Black Widow some of those people would ever see.”

Steve managed a half-smile. “I know the feeling.”

Natasha wondered at who Steve might have kissed, but decided it didn’t matter. She didn’t think she would have liked a kiss with anger and anguish biting at its heels. “I think you’d be a great captain of the Defenders,” she said after a moment.

“And you?” Steve asked. “What will you do? Become a Widows Matron?”

Natasha thought about it. “I’m going to garden,” she said.

“...Huh?” Steve said after a minute. “You’re going―what?”

“One good thing Tony’s Borough taught me was to help where it was needed, assigned role be damned,” Natasha explained, smiling a little. “The other Boroughs can have the Black Widows. Brooklyn doesn’t need them anymore. So I’ll go where I’m needed most. But mostly, I’m going to garden.”

Steve stared up at her, wondering, quiet. Finally, though, his lips spread into a familiar smile that she’d missed so much she ached with this one. “Bet you look good with dirt on your hands.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Natasha asked him coyly, and finally bent down to press a kiss to his lips.

It was better, this time. Steve had the chance to kiss her back now, and he took it, rough hands cradling her face, pulling her close and leaning in to meet her with so much emotion that it was hard to believe they’d only ever shared a few kisses before. Those hadn’t been their roles growing up, to soften for each other and care as much as they had.

They didn’t have those roles now, though, and she couldn’t help a soft whimper as he finally broke the kiss to lean back and stare up at her as if he’d never seen anything as beautiful as the sight of her after he’d kissed her.

“Steve,” Natasha said softly.

“Yes,” Steve answered, thumbs stroking over her cheeks.

Natasha leaned in so that her lips brushed his when she spoke. “You’re going to have to shave that beard off if you want more.”

It took a moment, but then Steve leaned back with a bark of laughter hard enough that he immediately had to grab his stitches with a wince. “Ow fuck. Really?” he asked, amusement dancing in his eyes despite the pain.

“You can keep the hair though,” Natasha mused. “I guess that’s okay.”

“You  _ guess? _ ” Steve repeated, laughing again, and then wrapped an arm around her waist to tug her down into his lap.

Natasha yelped, and for a moment she felt utterly embarrassed, like she should jab him in the ribs and flee. But no one was looking at them askance, and the few looks they did get before people moved their gazes away out of respect were fond, not like the looks they would have received before, if not a downright scolding.

They had new roles now, and those roles allowed for this, Natasha told herself sternly. It might take a while for her to believe it though.

Steve’s face was soft and open and with no remorse on it as he whispered, one last time, “I missed you.”

Natasha cupped his cheeks and leaned down for another soft kiss before she whispered back, “‘We mourn, but we move forward.’ Don’t dwell on what-ifs, Steve. Focus on me now, here, in your arms. That’s how it’s going to be from now on.”

Steve leaned back a little to peer up at her through heavy-lidded eyes before he let out a soft, mournful sob and buried his face in her chest.

Natasha wondered if he’d ever really gotten to mourn under the onslaught of all his rage and hate. Perhaps Tony’s Borough had been good for that, too―no one had ever told her not to be angry, not be sad, but they’d taught her the gift of moving on, too.

She’d just have to teach Steve how to move on herself, Natasha decided, dipping her head to press a kiss to his hair.


	25. Thor/Tony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cranes mean good things across most cultures' mythologies, with wisdom/knowledge in the west and longevity/happiness in the east.

Mythology AU

Thor heard him before he saw him, a long, rolling trumpet that slowly grew louder and louder. He turned, putting a hand up to shield his eyes from the sun. There, in the distance, he could see a familiar figure gliding through the sky, the most graceful thing he’d ever seen. Its wings were wider than Thor was tall, and its drab plumage was dyed ochre with dirt.

Thor waved.

“Thor!” the crane cried joyously, shifting from avian to human as it descended.

“Tony I hate when you do this,” Thor said quickly, just before Tony crashed into him, arms wrapping around his neck as they both fell to the ground. Tony continued to laugh, apparently not sorry at all, and Thor reluctantly laughed as well. It was hard to stay mad at him when he clearly trusted him enough to catch him, keep him from getting hurt. “And to what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Sif told me you won a magnificent battle,” Tony said excitedly, sitting up. “So I came to dance at your banquet!”

Thor stared at him blankly. “A magnificent battle? I haven’t fought any battles recently.”

“You haven’t?” Tony asked, confused. He stood up, wringing his hands together as he looked around, as if their surroundings might have an answer for him. He looked back up at Thor, frowning. “Not a single battle?”

“I mean…” Thor began, thinking about it. “...Loki stabbed me recently, I guess.”

Tony brightened. “And you battled him?”

“Well… no. It’s never really a battle with Loki,” Thor explained. “More like a scuffle and either I’m stabbed or I’m not.”

Tony’s bright expression dimmed with confusion again. “Isn’t Loki your brother, though?”

“...Most days,” Thor agreed.

Tony stared up at him, uncomprehending, then shrugged it off as an Asgardian thing he didn’t understand. He didn’t understand most things about them. “Oh, well. I guess I’ll just keep practicing for your next battle.”

Thor cleared his throat and looked away. “I probably won’t have any battles for quite some time. I, uh―”

“Oh, were you terribly injured when Loki stabbed you?” Tony cut in, walking around Thor to examine him. “So you must wait before you go back to battle. Of course! I’m sorry if I made you sad about not being able to battle.”

“Loki merely grazed me,” Thor said, hastily spinning to follow the smaller man with his eyes. “I’m not injured but for my pride.”

Tony frowned up at him, absolutely baffled. “Oh. So… so your people are going to employ diplomacy above all else, then? What about peoples who will not be reasoned with-?”

“My parents want me to find a bride,” Thor blurted out, for fear he wouldn’t ever be able to explain. For as regal and taciturn as Tony appeared as a crane, when he was human he was quite the chatterbox.

Tony went silent and turned to look at him, blinking slowly. “A… bride.”

“Yes,” Thor confirmed.

“A bride,” Tony repeated thoughtfully, then frowned. “I should think that a bride would _like_ to see your battle prowess.”

“I, well,” Thor tried. “One would think―”

“Oh!” Tony cut in, delighted. “You’re going to travel to breeding grounds, so you won’t  _ be here _ to battle!”

“No,” Thor choked out, but it didn’t appear as if the crane heard him.

Tony patted his arm comfortingly. “Don’t worry, Thor. I’ve heard your battle cries. Surely you’ll find a mate with that lusty voice.”

“Thank you, but,” Thor began.

Tony stared at his arm where he’d been patting him, humming thoughtfully, then looked back up at him. “A strong, virile human like you will likely have hens chasing after _him_, not the other way around.”

“Tony,” Thor said.

“I will dance at your wedding!” Tony informed him proudly. “I have a dance for just such occasions!”

Thor stared at him, bewildered. “...You dance at a lot of weddings?”

“I’m good luck for marriage,” Tony said, putting his hands on his hips as he thrust his chest out, smile smug. “Because I stand for longevity and happiness!”

“Oh,” Thor said weakly.

“But I’d definitely make it special,” Tony assured him, as if that was what Thor might be worried about. “Every couple is different, after all, and I wouldn’t want to bless anyone’s marriage with a dance I’ve done before. Once you’ve decided which hen to marry, I’ll come back and meet her so I can make a dance just for the two of you!”

“Tony,” Thor tried again.

Tony turned toward him, bright-eyed and oblivious, then frowned and tilted his head. Thor kept quiet, because Tony could hear more than he could, and he looked concerned. Thor remembered, belatedly, that Tony’s best friends had recently nested, and their brood should hatch any day now.

“It’s time!” Tony said, startled, and reached out to give Thor the quickest hug he’d ever given him. “I’m sorry we couldn’t talk more! I’ll visit as soon as I can!”

“I was hoping you’d―” Thor tried hurriedly as Tony shook himself, feathers falling back into place. “Tony, I was hoping we could―”

Tony let out a long, loud trumpet, then turned and nuzzled his bill against Thor’s shoulder.

Thor frowned down at him as Tony rocked back and forth on his long toes. He’d been talking about this new brood for days. Apparently James and Virginia had been trying for years and it had finally taken. “You mustn’t make them wait,” he sighed.

Tony made a soft churring sound and rubbed his beak over Thor’s throat gently before he turned, the wind from his wide, flapping wings making him take a step back as he watched the crane take off into the sky.

“‘...I had hoped you’d allow me to court you,’” Thor sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’d practiced so long and hard to be able to get the sentence out, and he still hadn’t been prepared for Tony’s loud obliviousness.

At least Sif gave him a hug when he found her and told her what had happened.

.-.-.-.

“Steve,” Thor said.

“FUCK,” Steve shouted, flopping backward off his perch.

Thor stared at where he’d been, wide-eyed, as the falcon that had been sitting next to him began to cackle.

“Idiot,” the other eagle said, looking down at where Steve had landed, wings splayed awkwardly and legs kicking to find purchase.

“Steve was napping,” the hawk explained. He craned his head to look down at Steve. “He was out all morning trying to find a proper stick to court me with.”

Thor stared at the hawk for several minutes before he finally said, “Clint, you and Steve are already mated.”

“I require courtship to strengthen our bond regularly,” Clint huffed, and then snuggled up against Steve’s side when he finally righted himself and flew back up to their perch.

Not for the first time, Thor wondered at the pair the two made. Probably not any stranger than he and Tony, if he thought about it too hard. Also still not as strange as Bucky and Sam, who regularly fell over themselves to show off for a pretty hummingbird before coming back together at night.

“How’d it go?” Steve asked, pretending that he hadn’t fallen at all.

Thor gave him a look to show that he hadn’t forgotten, but he was also too disappointed to say so. “Tony kept talking over me and then his friends’ brood hatched and he had to go see them.”

“Oh! Virginia and James have been trying for a long time to have chicks, I bet Tony’s excited,” Sam said happily, and then grunted, “Ow!” angrily when Bucky nipped him.

“So you didn’t get to ask him, huh?” Steve asked sympathetically.

“No,” Thor sighed.

“Oh,” Bucky, Clint, and Sam sighed, disappointed.

“Wait a minute,” Steve said thoughtfully. “Wait just a―Tony’s friends just had a brood!”

Thor frowned at him. “Yes? We’ve all known how excited Tony has been. I think the only ones more excited were Virginia and James.”

“Tony  _ loves _ chicks,” Steve pointed out. “So! The next time you see him, just offer to help him make chicks!”

“Yeah! Yeah!” the other birds cheered, enthused.

“I can’t just offer that,” Thor sputtered.

“Why not?” Sam asked, scowling at him. “If he wants to, he’ll say yes, and if he doesn’t, he’ll say no.”

“Yes, but,” Thor began.

“Chicks! Chicks! Chicks!” Clint began chanting, bobbing up and down. Bucky and Steve hurried to join him. “Chicks! Chicks! Chicks!”

Thor stared, torn between screaming and laughing. “Oh shit.”

“Tony would only want to make chicks with a mate, so basically you’re asking him to mate and he won’t be able to talk over you,” Sam added.

“I can’t just―” Thor began.

“Ask him for chicks, you coward,” Sam said, and then joined the others in chanting ‘chicks’ at him.

.-.-.-.

“So, uh,” Loki asked after a moment.

Thor sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Loki continued to stare at Thor for several minutes, as if trying to mull over how best to ask the question in a way that embarrassed him but also got him answers. Eventually he gave up, because knowing was more important than any glee he would have gotten out of embarrassing his brother. “What is that,” he finally asked, pointing at the windows.

_ “Chicks! Chicks! Chicks!” _ what seemed like the whole aviary screamed through the glass, glaring at Thor for ignoring them.  _ “Chicks! Chicks! Chicks!” _

“It’s my hubris coming back to bite me in the ass,” Thor said grumpily.

Loki watched the sea of birds begin to undulate as they started to bob up and down with the force of their shouts. It was horrifying. “What does that mean?”

“It means Tony flew off before I could ask to court him and now every single fucking bird around the castle is telling me to tell Tony I want chicks to express my interest in him!” Thor exclaimed. “What does it look like it means, idiot?!”

Loki would have been offended, but he’d heard the birds had been screaming at Thor for hours, and he figured that could wear  _ anyone _ thin. “Huginn and Muninn aren’t there,” he offered instead.

“They  _ were _ , but Father needed them for something,” Thor spat, crossing his arms.

Loki turned to stare at the birds again. Finally, he looked back at Thor. “Why did you go to the birds for advice?”

“Tony’s a bird,” Thor answered, temper quickly growing short.

“Can you even have babies with a bird?” Loki asked.

The birds swiveled their attention from Thor to Loki to screech,  _ “Sleipnir!!!!!” _ They began rolling with the chant of his son’s name.  _ “Sleipnir! Sleipnir! Sleipnir!” _

“I have regrets,” Loki admitted immediately.

Thor put his head in his hands, shoulders shaking. His laughter might have been at least partly hysteria.

.-.-.-.

It took six months for Tony to finally return.

“Have you chosen a hen?” he asked excitedly, patting Thor’s chest.

Thor stared up at him, sighing. A rock was digging painfully into his back. Did Tony even realize he stopped being ten pounds when he transformed into a human? “Yes,” he finally answered. He’d chosen, after all, if nothing else.

“Magnificent!” Tony exclaimed as Thor sat up. He paused, watching curiously as Thor grabbed him by the waist and put him on his feet so he could stand up himself. Then he added, “Tell me about them!”

“Well,” Thor began.

“Are they pretty?” Tony asked quickly.

Thor took a moment to consider the question, eyes tracing Tony’s long lashes, and his dark, intelligent eyes that had seen more than Thor probably ever would. His hair was wavy and windswept, cheeks flushed a delicious pink from the exertion of shifting from a bird to a human. His straight white teeth had caught his plush lower lip between them and he was nibbling at it anxiously. “Very pretty,” he finally answered, smiling a little.

“Very pretty,” Tony murmured thoughtfully.

“Very muscular, too,” Thor added, giving Tony’s body a long once-over.

Tony looked back up at him, head tilting. “A fellow warrior? A comrade?”

“No,” Thor said, smiling. “Battle doesn’t suit them.”

Tony frowned at him, concerned, then brightened again. “Oh! That makes sense. Your hen can sit at home with your brood while you go to battle, so your kingdom needn’t worry about losing both of you.”

“Of course,” Thor agreed fondly. Having Tony at home, safe, was definitely a boon; he wasn't a portent of battles, after all, but an omen of joy and longevity.

“Are they smart?” Tony asked, clasping his hands together. “Are they kind?”

“I think so,” Thor replied. “A bit, hmm. Flighty in attention, perhaps? They like to be doing things, and they can’t stand idleness if a decision has been made.”

“Oh,” Tony breathed thoughtfully. “And you like that?”

“I adore it, when I can get a word in edgewise,” Thor answered, smiling. He crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows. “Truly, there is no one as magnificent as the one I’ve chosen to give my heart to.”

Tony brightened, and his feet moved as if with the want to break into dance then and there. “Oh! I can’t wait to meet them!”

“I believe you already know them quite well,” Thor said, heart warming as Tony nearly burst with excitement, feathers fluttering through his hair before he finally got control over himself again.

“It’ll be much easier to come up with a dance if I know them!” Tony exclaimed, bouncing on his toes. “Who is it? Who is it, Thor?”

Thor finally reached out, gently grabbing Tony’s biceps. Tony stopped bouncing, startled, and stared up at him with wide eyes, lips parting a little in surprise. It would probably be the only time he ever saw Tony speechless, Thor thought, amused, and then bent down to gently press their lips together, sliding his arms around Tony’s back.

Tony melted in his embrace with a coo, arms coming up to wrap around his neck to keep him close, gasping softly into his mouth when Thor pulled him closer, so they were pressed together from shoulder to groin. He only pulled back when he felt feathers under his fingers, and couldn’t help a little snort when he saw that Tony’s arms had turned to wings in his distraction.

“Oh,” Tony breathed, eyes still shut.

“You never let me speak long enough to tell you I have feelings for you, pretty bird,” Thor murmured.

Tony finally let his eyes peel open to look up at him, dazed. “Oh,” he said again.

“Tony,” Thor said quietly. “Please be my bride.”

Tony blinked up at him silently, as if all of his strength had gone into kissing him and now he just wanted to bask in his arms. Finally, he said, “Thor.”

“Yes,” Thor replied fondly.

“How am I to dance at my own wedding,” Tony said, perturbed. “It would be very vain, wishing for longevity and happiness for myself. How awful! We will have to wait until Virginia and James’s brood grows up enough so that one of them can leave to dance for us instead.”

Thor stared at him, shocked silent, then threw his head back to roar with laughter.

“Thor!” Tony exclaimed, feathers fluttering through his hair again in agitation. “It’s not funny! I―”

Thor cupped his cheeks and drew him back up into a kiss, and kept kissing him until the sounds passing his lips changed from complaints to mews and pleased sighs. Tony melted into his arms so sweetly. He really wasn’t that heavy, Thor thought, when he wasn’t being carried by the momentum of his flight. He could easily carry him like this, could lift him over the threshold to consummate their marriage.

Tony leaned against his chest, panting, when Thor finally broke the kiss, murmuring a soft, “Oh, I understand why humans kiss so much now.”

“It is certainly an upside to having lips instead of beaks,” Thor answered. “Is that a yes? Tony, are you consenting to our marriage?”

“I… oh,” Tony murmured. “I thought the kiss… Yes. Yes, Thor, I’ll marry you, if that’s allowed.”

“It is,” Thor assured him. “My mother thinks it’s wonderful. Father might have had something to say, but Mother won’t hear a dissenting word about it.” He laughed a little. “And to think, the aviary wanted me to just straight out ask you to have chicks with me.”

Tony jerked backward to scowl up at him. “Why didn’t you? We could have saved so much time, Thor!”

“Oh no,” Thor laughed as Tony began chattering away about crane mating rituals and how they’d basically been courting the entire time and he would have understood Thor’s intentions if he’d mentioned a brood even once. He wondered if he could get away with never telling anyone about it.

.-.-.-.

“Why didn’t you just tell him to ask me about chicks?” Tony complained when Thor brought him to say hello to his other avian friends.

“HA!” Steve screeched triumphantly.

Thor bowed his head and laughed a little. He should have known better than to think he could get away with this. Birds were horrible gossips. It was why they were so good at gathering information, after all. On the bright side, because they were so gossipy, it would pass quickly in favor of a bigger story. He’d just have to weather this until Tony was distracted by something else.

And Tony was still holding his hand as he complained to the other birds how silly Asgardians were for not being upfront about mating and broods, so he figured Tony must not be entirely as upset as he put on.


	26. James Rhodes/Sam Wilson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had no idea how to do this one so.... here it is. Are Rhodey and Tony horrifyingly codependent? Yeah but I like 'em like that lmao.

Social Media AU

Pepper found Tony face-down on his couch where she’d left him the night before. “Uh. Looks like you never made it to bed, huh? You just… fell asleep here. After you promised not to.”

Tony lifted his head, eyes big and watery as he stared up at her. “You still love me, don’t you? Just because you and Happy are hitting on Hot Aunt May doesn’t mean you’ll cut me out of your life, right?”

“What the fuck,” Pepper sputtered. She took a moment to take a deep breath and compose herself, because he honestly looked distraught. “What are you talking about?” she asked calmly once she’d shaken off the shock.

“Rhodey said he couldn’t hang out with me because he was meeting an old Air Force buddy,” Tony said. “But Steve just posted a picture on his Instagram! Rhodey’s hanging out with him while he’s on a mission! After Steve said I couldn’t go!”

“That’s because you have the most recognizable face in the world and nobody gets past the triangle Steve’s shoulder to waist ratio makes. You’re not good at undercover work,” Pepper pointed out gently. “And you said you wouldn’t go to New Jersey with Steve ever again. And you _know_ that Rhodey just likes to make sure your boyfriend isn’t being an idiot. He stopped Steve from shaving his head after he drank too much of Thor’s mead, remember?”

“It would have served him right for not sharing,” Tony mumbled petulantly. Then he shoved his phone in her face. “But look! He’s not talking to Steve!”

Pepper took his phone to obediently look at the picture, noting that it was the Instagram for Steve’s alias and not his actual Instagram, so he was technically working when he took it. It looked like the hotel the group was staying at in the background. Sam was lounging in one of the chairs by the pool. Bucky was looming up behind him with a bucket of ice.

She examined it for several minutes, trying to see if maybe there was a set of silver armor in the sky behind them or something, but she did not see James Rhodes anywhere in the picture. She finally looked back at Tony, frowning, and wondered if he’d finally gone off the deep end. “I’m not seeing it.”

Tony scoffed at her as if she was an idiot and swiped his phone back, pointing at the left foot just barely visible on the left side of the screen. “There!”

Pepper stared at, uncomprehending. “The foot?”

“That’s Rhodey’s foot!” Tony informed her imperiously.

Pepper jerked her head to give him her best aghast expression. It was what he deserved, honestly. “You can recognize him by a foot?!”

“You can’t?” Tony scoffed.

“I have so many questions,” Pepper murmured, mostly to herself.

“Steve wasn’t even in the Air Force!” Tony exclaimed angrily. “Why would he lie to me like this?!”

Pepper jerked back to face him, eyebrows flying up. “What.”

“Steve’s only flown one plane and he crashed it into the ocean!” Tony continued.

Pepper stared at him, unable to even speak for a moment. She did not understand how someone so brilliant could be such a fucking idiot.

“...What,” Tony asked defensively.

“Tony,” Pepper said, deciding to go for gentle since he was still clearly upset. “Who else was in the picture?”

“Bucky!” Tony exclaimed. “About to get his ass kicked by Sa-! ...Oh.”

“So maybe Rhodey went to go see Sam,” Pepper offered. “And not Steve.”

Tony frowned down at his phone, swiping through the next few photos that Steve had posted under his alias. “Oh,” he said again, and then looked up at her with wide, wet eyes again. “Why wouldn’t Rhodey tell me he was dating Sam?”

“He literally just sat next to him,” Pepper said, and then frowned. “...Are you sure?”

Tony scoffed and showed him the picture again. “Of course!”

“...Okay,” Pepper said, and then pulled out her phone.

.-.-.-.

Steve frowned at his phone. “Colonel Rhodes…”

“I have told you a hundred times to call me Jim,” Jim said, not looking up from his StarkPad.

“I think I’m already in trouble with Tony, so I don’t care,” Steve admitted.

Jim looked up at him, confused. “Tony isn’t even here. How could he possibly know you dropped the watch he bought you in the pool? Did you tell him?”

“I’m not allowed to talk to him as part of the rules for going undercover because I get a sappy face whenever I read his texts and my alias is single,” Steve mumbled mulishly.

Jim’s expression went from confused to disbelieving, and then disgusted when Bucky said, “It’s true, even the dirty ones, I didn’t believe a man could have a sappy face after being sent a dick pic until I saw it from Steve.”

“Why do you know it was a dick pic?” Jim asked, scandalized.

“Because he was makin’ that stupid sappy face and I took his phone to make fun of him and it wasn’t a sappy message, it was a dick pic. Looks nice in red lace though,” Bucky added, scratching his chin awkwardly.

Jim wanted to be surprised, but deep down, he knew he never would be. Not about Tony. “So how do you know that Tony’s mad at you?”

“Pepper sent me a link to her Instagram,” Steve answered.

Jim was always down to see Tony being mad at Steve, so he opened Instagram on his StarkPad. “Oh no,” he said when he was immediately met with Pepper’s stern expression. “The face of mild disapproval. Tony is sad-going-on-maudlin.”

“For real?” Sam asked, leaning over to look over his shoulder. “She just looks pissed to me.”

“No, this is mild disapproval,” Jim corrected. “When she’s mad she doesn’t look mad. It’s why she’s so dangerous.”

“How do you not just constantly piss yourself in terror around her,” Sam asked, awed.

Jim shrugged, scrolling up on the page so he could read her description under the photo. “Because her rage is typically on Tony’s behalf and I’m either just as mad or I deserve it. That’s how we bonded, really, because Tony wa―Fucking shit!” he yelped.

_ Tony knows _ , was all it said.

“What?!” Sam asked, concerned. “What is it?!”

“He knows about you and me I wanted to tell him in person fuck!” Jim exclaimed, then covered his face. “Oh no. No wonder he’s sad. He probably thought I was hiding it from him.”

“How did he even find out?!” Sam sputtered, then frowned, narrowing his eyes suspiciously as he turned back to Steve. “Steve, how did Pepper know to text you on your mission phone?”

Steve crossed his arms defensively. “Pepper is always able to get a hold of me in the event of an emergency because I never, ever make a sappy face around her unless Tony is nearby to quell her wrath.”

“That doesn’t explain how he found out if you didn’t text him!” Sam glared at him.

“I didn’t text him! I didn’t make the sappy face!” Steve exclaimed.

“Uh,” Bucky said, and then winced as they all whipped to glare at him. “I mean. He’s always so goddamn sad and worried when Steve leaves,” he sighed finally, shrugging. “So sometimes if our aliases have social media I… give him the screen names so he can know Steve’s okay.”

“Aw, Buck,” Steve began, touched.

“GIVE ME THAT,” Jim snarled, lunging for him. He felt quite a bit of unholy glee when Steve screamed in terror and threw the phone at him to scramble behind Bucky. He scrolled through the photos frantically. Upon finding nothing, he scrolled through them more carefully. “Steve,” he said through gritted teeth.

“I didn’t take any pictures of you I don’t understand what’s happening,” Steve wailed, hiding behind Bucky. Bucky looked ready to chuck him in Jim’s direction before disappearing into the distance.

“You got my foot!” Jim exclaimed angrily.

Everyone was silent for a few minutes, staring at him, stupefied. Finally, Steve repeated, “Your foot.”

“Right here!” Jim confirmed, stabbing at the photo with one finger for emphasis. “Right next to Sam’s!”

“And… Tony recognized you… just from that,” Sam asked slowly.

Jim was already tapping frantically at his tablet. A phone call would have been better, but a message would have to do until he could go grab his phone. “If I’m lucky he hasn’t figured out we’re dating yet―”

“You guys are dating!?” Steve and Bucky sputtered.

“And I can get in a quick text to―no,” Jim whispered, and then added a mournful, “Fuck!” as he sank onto the ground.

Sam watched him lie face-down, bewildered, and hurried over to him. “What’s going on? What’s happening? Jim?”

Jim said nothing, just tried to become one with the cement.

Sam frowned at him for a moment longer before carefully picking up his tablet.

> Tony Stark  
@youknowwhoiam  
This is it. This is the day I have felt the deepest betrayal.

> Tony Stark  
@youknowwhoiam  
First my BFF doesn’t want to visit me and now he’s visiting his secret boyfriend. Why wouldn’t he tell me he had a boyfriend?

> Tony Stark  
@youknowwhoiam  
Is it me? Am I a bad friend?

> Tony Stark  
@youknowwhoiam  
I gave him a suit. I let him call it the Iron Patriot.

> Tony Stark  
@youknowwhoiam  
Iron Patriot is a stupid name. I’m glad he saw the error of his ways and changed it back to War Machine.

> Tony Stark  
@youknowwhoiam  
But I let him call it that because I love him why doesn’t he love me back :((((

“Am… Am I the other woman?” Sam asked after a moment. “Because I feel like the other woman.”

“That’s normal,” Steve assured him. “Sometimes I walk in and Tony and Jim are cuddling and I feel like I’ve intruded.”

“You are intruding,” Jim said, voice muffled by the ground.

Bucky looked appalled, whispering, “What the fuck none of what any of you just said is normal.”

Sam watched as more tweets quickly filled the screen.

> Tony Stark  
@youknowwhoiam  
Will we ever overcome this betrayal? What have I done to betray his trust?

> Tony Stark  
@youknowwhoiam  
Is this the end of the Rhodey and Tony show? Is it the Rhodey and Sam show now?

> Tony Stark  
@youknowwhoiam  
They’ve even got a better ship name than we had why did I think we ever had a chance

> Tony Stark  
@youknowwhoiam  
@warmachinerox We used to be Iron Husbands and now you’re War Falcon how am I supposed to compete

> Tony Stark  
@youknowwhoiam  
Oh no I’m spiraling

> Tony Stark  
@youknowwhoiam  
My dramatics are actually giving me feelings this was just supposed to make you feel guilty

> Tony Stark  
@youknowwhoiam  
God I wish I could be a normal person

> Blint Carton  
@therealhawkguy  
@youknowwhoiam Hey man you okay

> Blint Carton  
@therealhawkguy  
@youknowwhoiam Wtf did you change my screen name again change it back

> Tony Stark  
@youknowwhoiam  
@therealhawkguy No

> Blint Carton  
@therealhawkguy  
@virginiapotts Miss Potts Tony’s being mean to me again

> Pepper Potts  
@viginiapotts  
@therealhawkguy @youknowwhoiam Don’t worry. I’ll talk to him, Blint.

> Blint Carton  
@therealhawkguy  
I’m gonna file a complaint with HR

> Tony Stark  
@youknowwhoiam  
@therealhawkguy Blint Rhodey’s abandoned me so you get to be my new best friend

> Blint Carton  
@therealhawkguy  
@youknowwhoiam Does that mean I get a suit?!

> Tony Stark  
@youknowwhoiam  
@therealhawkguy ¯\\_( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)_/¯

> Blint Carton  
@therealhawkguy  
How do I change my handle to @IronHawk

> Tony Stark  
@youknowwhoiam  
*gasp* @therealhawkguy our ship name!

> Blint Carton  
@therealhawkguy  
@youknowwhoiam I accept the role of your new best friend and our ship name

> Blint Carton  
@therealhawkguy  
Ship stands for friendship right

> Natasha Romanov  
@therealblackwidow  
Nobody tell him

“Tony’s giving Clint a suit,” Sam said.

“Oh my God they’re gonna destroy the tower,” Jim gasped, lifting his head. “And then Pepper’s gonna blame me even though it’s all Steve’s fault.”

“How was I supposed to know he’d recognize your  _ foot?! _ ” Steve exclaimed, offended.

Jim scoffed at him. “Oh, like you wouldn’t recognize Bucky’s foot in a picture.”

Steve and Bucky looked at each other and did that thing with their eyebrows where they talked without opening their mouths. Finally, they looked back at Jim, and Steve said, “I wouldn’t. That’s weird. It’s weird that you and Tony can do that.”

“Is not,” Jim said.

“It’s actually really weird, honey,” Sam told him gently.

“And hey! What’s this dating thing?” Steve added, putting his hands on his hips and scowling at them. “After all the razzing you gave me and Tony?”

“You got gooey-eyed over a dick pic, Steve, shut the fuck up,” Jim snapped.

“Hey!” Steve exclaimed again.

Bucky raised his hand. “Okay so we’re just not going to acknowledge the fact that Tony’s giving Clint some armor?”

“Fuck!” Jim sighed, and then reached out to grab Sam’s shoulder. “Sorry. I was gonna take you out tonight but I really should make sure―”

“God, hurry up and go before we don’t have a tower to actually go back to,” Sam replied.

“I probably won’t be back because I’ve gotta remind Tony that just because I wasn’t ready to tell him about us it doesn’t mean he stopped being my best friend,” Jim added. “Also please don’t agree to any double dates unless I okay them Tony has some really weird tastes.”

“Uh, no, I’m going to go on exactly all of the double dates with Steve and Tony,” Sam scoffed. “They went to a cheese festival. In  _ France _ .”

Jim rolled his eyes to cover up the fact that he was amused. “Ugh fine as long as Steve gets Tony to promise not to use the stripper pole while we’re flying places.”

“The stripper pole is  _ real?! _ ” Sam exclaimed, at the same time as Steve cried, “It’s a good workout, you don’t  _ have _ to look at him!”

“I want to go home this mission is already fucked,” Bucky declared as the War Machine armor wrapped around Jim.

Sam and Steve worked together to throw Bucky into the pool. Jim wondered if they thought it was worth it, because Bucky dragged them in with them.

.-.-.-.

Sam came back to the tower to find Jim and Tony cuddled up on the couch. “I really  _ do _ feel like I’m intruding,” he said, surprised.

“It’s something you get used to,” Steve assured him as he walked past him to approach the couch and press a kiss to Tony’s head.

Jim growled at him and held Tony closer. “No. It’s Tones and Rhodey time.”

Steve held his hands up obediently and backed off. “I’ll make dinner.”

“We want chicken and dumplings,” Tony informed him imperiously, and snuggled closer to Jim, head carefully tucked under his chin.

“Okay,” Steve said, and went for the kitchen instead.

“What the fuck, how is this normal?” Bucky burst out.

“It was never going to be normal the day Tony showed up in my dorm room and said he was fourteen,” Jim scoffed at him. “Sam get over here. I will allow you to cuddle with us just this once now that I’ve affirmed Tony’s place as my best friend.”

“This is so weird,” Sam said, but went over to cuddle them anyway. Jim had warned him when he’d asked him out that he and Tony had had a very serious (and somewhat codependent) friendship and it had ended several budding relationships for both of them. Sam had figured that it couldn’t possibly be as weird as fighting aliens.

Tony threw his legs over Sam’s lap smugly, like an overgrown cat.

Maybe Tony was an alien, Sam mused, and reached out to idly rub one of his feet.

Tony made a very happy sound. “Oh! A gentleman! Platypus, I approve. You may continue to date Sam.”

“Was gonna keep dating him anyway, but okay,” Jim said, rolling his eyes fondly. He glanced over at Sam, smiling, then turned a glare in Steve’s direction. “You’ve never rubbed  _ my _ feet.”

“You literally just growled at me a few minutes ago and I’m making you guys dinner,” Steve said, not turning away from chopping celery and carrots. “Do you want foot rubs or food?”

It looked like it physically pained Jim to reluctantly answer, “Food.” Sam bit back a laugh; he’d point in his face and laugh at him later.

“This is the fucking weirdest thing I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a lot of weird shit,” Bucky complained, holding his phone up. He turned so that he was in the foreground and they were in the background. “Natasha, what the fuck. Snapchat maps says you’re here in the tower come here so we can commiserate over how fucking weird these guys are.”

A moment later he got a return video. _“Sorry,”_ Natasha shouted over the wind. _“Clint’s dumbassery is taking precedence.”_ The video flipped so they could see an Iron Man suit hanging half in and half out a broken window.

“Is that Stark Tower?!” Steve exclaimed, leaning over Bucky’s shoulder.

“Yeah, he crashed into the thirtieth floor but Rhodey came back to hug me so I left him there,” Tony explained, shrugging.

“YOU GAVE HIM THE SUIT KNOWING HE’S GOT NO SELF-PRESERVATION SKILLS GO GET HIM OUT,” Steve bellowed, grabbing Tony by the scruff and forcing him to his feet.

“But Rhodey cuddles!” Tony whined.

“Jim can go help you get him out since it’s his fault this happened in the first place,” Sam declared. “ _ I _ wanted to tell you after the third date and Jim didn’t because he wanted some time to enjoy our new relationship instead of immediately having to share it with everyone.”

“It physically pains me to say that you’re one of the most normal people here,” Bucky admitted to Sam as Jim rolled his eyes but obediently stood up. He turned to face them as they tromped for the elevator. “Do you guys understand what you’ve done? You’d made me like Sam the most. I can’t believe this.”

“Steve, you keep cooking, I’m gonna drag Barnes to the gym and throw him across it,” Sam said.

“Glad you’re dating Jim, Sam, you’re already fitting in with his and Tony’s dynamic,” Steve replied, back in the kitchen to chop up veggies again.

“God I hate everyone here,” Bucky said, just before Sam tackled him.

.-.-.-.

> Tony Stark  
@youknowwhoiam  
False alarm everyone! Sugar muffin still loves me the most. uwu

> James Rhodes  
@warmachinerox  
In before anyone says “did a grown man actually uwu” he literally made that face at me I hate this

> James Rhodes  
@warmachinerox  
I have photographic evidence.

> James Rhodes  
@warmachinerox  
Also thanks for outing me to Mama asshole @youknowwhoiam I was gonna tell her after the holidays

> Tony Stark  
@youknowwhoiam  
Oh no

> Roberta Rhodes  
@mamabearrhodes  
@warmachinerox @ youknowwhoiam I expect both you boys to bring your SOs to Thanksgiving :)

> Tony Stark  
@youknowwhoiam  
@mamabearrhodes But Steve already bought a goose :(

> Roberta Rhodes  
@mamabearrhodes  
@youknowwhoiam Excellent! I’ll bring the sides :) I’ve always wanted to see the parade in person :)

> James Rhodes  
@warmachinerox  
At all of you saying my mama is so sweet: First of all you are right and second of all she’s coming to kill me specifically

> Roberta Rhodes  
@mamabearrhodes  
@warmachinerox Don’t be silly :) Tony didn’t tell me about his boyfriend either :)

> Tony Stark  
@youknowwhoiam  
Steve should just roast me instead of the bird because I was a silly goose to ever believe I could keep him a secret from Mama Rhodes unu

> James Rhodes  
@warmachinerox  
I have a photo evidence of @youknowwhoiam going ‘unu’ as well I just want everyone to know that

> Steve Rogers  
@thefirstcaptainamerica  
Hey Google can smiley faces be threatening asking for a friend

> Steve Rogers  
@thefirstcaptainamerica  
AJHGSKJSDG @youknowwhoiam SHE FOLLOWED ME HOW DO I MASS DELETE TWEETS SHE’S GONNA KNOW I’M AN ASSHOLE NOW

> Roberta Rhodes  
@mamabearrhodes  
@thefirstcaptainamerica Honey the most egregious thing on your Twitter is that you hate the Phillies.

> Roberta Rhodes  
@mamabearrhodes  
@thefirstcaptainaemerica Also you could probably stand to swear less but I can’t see how it’s any worse than Tony uwuing.

> Tony Stark  
@youknowwhoiam  
@mamabearrhodes came for my fucking throat with no remorse

> Roberta Rhodes  
@mamabearrhodes  
@youknowwhoiam ;) See you at Thanksgiving! I’ll bring the pies!


	27. Steve/Natasha/Tony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANOTHER WARNING IF YOU DIDN'T MIND THE TAGS!!!!!: Tony discusses a sexual assault and resulting blackmail he suffered. There is also discussion of drug use/dealing. Be careful as you read, friends!

Detective AU

“Looking good, Rogers,” Natasha murmured under her breath.

On stage, Steve gave no indication he’d heard her, waving to the crowd and pausing long enough to let a couple more customers slip bills into his waistband. Once he was behind the curtain, though, his annoyed voice came back over the radio, a hissed,  _ “Next time  _ ** _you_ ** _ can wear the thong. Red, white, and blue? Seriously?” _

_ “Everyone loves that all-American beef,” _ Sam replied.

_ “Shut up. You’re in the van. Guys in the van don’t get to make jokes at the expense of the guy who has to wear a thong. Someone slapped my ass.” _

Natasha sat up a little, frowning, and scanned the crowd. “Who?”

_ “Not the dealer we’re looking for, asshole, so sit your intimidating ass back down,” _ Bucky barked.

_ “Bucky’s mad because he had to reschedule a date with Sharon because Clint’s still in the hospital please don’t kill him,” _ Sam added quickly.

Natasha decided not to kill him on her own, but it was only because setting Bucky and Sharon up had been a huge pain in the ass and she was still smug about it finally being a success. Also Sharon had said she liked him, so it would be in poor taste to kill someone she finally liked after all the dates Natasha had set her up with people she didn't.

_ “Anyway,” _ Steve muttered after a moment. He sighed, breath crackling over the radio.  _ “There’s one other dancer that’s been pretty sketchy. He’s friendly enough but he’s also kinda twitchy, looking around like he’s waiting for something. They call him Cherry. Keep your eyes on him, okay? Something’s up.” _

“Sure,” Natasha replied, and glanced over at the bar where Thor was nursing his third bottle of beer. She raised her eyebrows at him.

Thor caught her eye, smirked, and nodded at the man sitting next to him. Every time he turned to watch a pretty dancer, Thor tipped his bottle just enough to top up his drink.

Natasha took a moment to marvel at how oblivious the man was before her attention was arrested by the sound of whistling and the cheers of ‘Eeeey Cherry!’

Cherry was, objectively, very attractive. His lips were painted bright red like the fruit he was named after, parting on a lascivious smile. He was a little older than most of the dancers here, but he owned it, not covering up his laugh lines or his few gray hairs. He was lean and muscled and had a truly spectacular ass, and he seemed to know it, working himself up against the pole like he was getting fucked into it, bottom lip caught coyly between his teeth, eyes half-lidded. After a particularly obscene roll of his hips he bent over, shoving his ass out to the crowd, and they tripped over themselves to be able to shove cash into his lacy panties.

“Cherry is way better at this than you,” Natasha blurted out before she could stop herself.

_ “I’m not a fucking stripper!?” _ Steve replied shrilly over the Bucky and Sam’s laughter and Thor’s snort.  _ “Of course he’s better than me?!” _

Natasha opened her mouth to say something else, but then she saw something get tossed onto the platform by a man who then turned and too-casually walked away. “Thor,” she said immediately.

“I see him,” Thor replied, casually setting his beer aside and getting up as if to head to the bathroom before changing direction to follow the man out the door.

Natasha turned her attention back to the stage just in time to watch Cherry snatch the thing up, curling his fingers around it to hide it from view before she could actually catch what it was. As she watched, he casually slipped the object into his panties between two bills with practiced fingers, smoothing his hand over it to make sure it was secure but sliding his hand down to his groin to make it look like a tease for the crowd instead. They immediately went wild, jeering and clapping as he went back to humping the pole.

“Cherry just slipped something into his panties. I couldn’t tell what it was, but he looked like he’d definitely done this before,” Natasha murmured. “Could be drugs. I’m not sure.”

_ “It would explain why he’s so squirrely,” _ Steve replied.  _ “His locker’s near mine. He’s got a good lock but I saw him do the combo once so I might be able to get in. Can you distract him long enough for me to check it out?” _

Natasha watched Cherry swat at a hand that lingered too long, laughing. “If you want a feel, pay for a private room,” he teased, then swung himself around the pole in a frankly impressive feat of dexterity and strength. He even flipped himself upside-down, legs spreading in an obscene tease before he flipped back over to land on his feet again. It was pretty incredible.

“Yeah,” she said. “I can distract him.”

.-.-.-.

“I don’t usually have women pay for a private room,” Cherry said when he saw her, looking a little surprised.

Natasha leaned back in her seat and smirked. “Disappointed?”

“You look like you could eat me alive,” Cherry declared as he swaggered over with more confidence than Natasha had ever seen from a single person wearing heels and panties and absolutely nothing else. “I like that.”

“Well, I heard you tell someone that if they wanted to cop a feel, they had to pay,” Natasha replied. She spread her arms over the back of the couch and raised an eyebrow. “And with an ass like that? With hips that move it like  _ that? _ I couldn’t pass this up.”

“Oh,” Cherry breathed, smiling, and Natasha was pleased to see a blush crossing his cheeks. “Honest, too.”

Natasha patted her lap, smile going sharp. “Come here and show me what that ass feels like, cheeky.”

“Cherry,” Cherry corrected faintly, licking his lips, and moved closer, as if drawn by an invisible thread.

He started to turn, as if to sit at least sideways, but Natasha grabbed his hip and turned him back to face her sharply. “Come on, baby,” she cooed. “Let me see your pretty face as you dance on my lap.”

Cherry smiled again, knees framing her hips as he settled on her lap. “I bet you’re always this bossy,” he said, and swiveled his hips just so.

Natasha clamped her hands down on his hips and forced herself not to yelp. She felt like an idiot —of course this was what was going to happen when she’d paid for the private room. “Oh,” she couldn’t help but gasp when he swiveled his hips again.

“You can grab my ass if you want,” Cherry offered. “Most people do. No spanking, no going under the panties. Oh!” he gasped when Natasha obediently slid her hands back to grab a handful of his ass in each hand and squeeze. “ — No nails!” he choked out, hips stuttering. “You’ll snag my panties and I still have to walk to the back room in these!”

“Bet you’d look good in snagged panties,” Natasha said, trying to regain the upper hand she’d had. “All shy and debauched. You look like you know what to do with your mouth, Cherry.”

“Maybe I do,” Cherry said, smirking back at her to show it hadn’t worked even for a minute. “What are you going to do about it?”

Natasha noticed Steve looming up above them, looking grim-faced and upset. “I’m going to advise it of its Miranda Rights,” she replied.

Cherry froze, looking down at her in confusion, before he managed to whisper, “What?”

“You have the right to remain silent,” Natasha began. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law— ”

Cherry jerked backward, terrified, and yelped when he fell back into Steve’s chest. He stuttered out a frantic, “Captain, I-! I have no idea what she’s talking about, I—”

Steve looked physically pained as he continued, “You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be provided for you.”

Cherry looked terrified for just a few seconds more before his shoulders sagged in defeat and he just looked sad. He allowed Steve to cuff him without a fight, and then he waited quietly by the door as Steve went back out to retrieve at least some sweatpants for him, not wanting to parade him through the precinct in his work uniform.

“You really were very good,” Natasha couldn’t help but offer lamely, taking his stilettos carefully in one hand. He looked much older now, all defeated and sad.

“Thanks,” Cherry replied, voice cracking, just before Steve returned, and then refused to say anything else.

.-.-.-.

Steve slid the baggy that had been taken from Tony after he’d been frisked across the table. “Can you tell me what this is?”

Tony stared down at it, measuring, before finally whispering, “It’s cocaine.”

Natasha looked down at the driver's license they’d found in Tony’s locker, frowning. She rubbed her thumb over his picture. He was only a few years older than them, but he already had a long list of arrests on his record—misdemeanors, at first, but then he’d turned eighteen and been disowned, and he’d started getting picked up for shoplifting and trespassing. Those had trailed off only to be punctuated with arrests for soliciting sex. Apparently his job at the strip club had actually been a step up from what he’d been doing.

And now it seemed like he was their only hope of finding his dealer, because Thor had lost him when he’d ducked into a crowd of tourists.

Natasha looked back through the two-way mirror, unable to help feeling a little sorry for him.

“Look, I’ll be upfront with you,” Steve was sighing. “We want your dealer more than we want to charge you. Alright? So we’re willing to make a deal. We won’t charge you for possession, we won’t charge you for the kilo we found in your bag and its intended distribution, if you just cooperate with us and help us find him.”

“He’ll kill me if I do,” Tony answered immediately. “He planned for me to take the fall from the beginning. Why the hell do you think he threw this onto the stage while you guys were watching the club? I had an entire fucking kilo in my duffel bag and he, what? Forgot to give me a gram? This was set up from the beginning and he’ll kill me if I don’t follow his plan.”

“We can protect you,” Steve promised.

“No you can’t,” Tony told him.

Steve frowned at him severely for several minutes, silent. Natasha had watched stronger men crack under the expression, and yet Tony stared back, unflinching, apparently more willing to believe that his dealer would find a way to murder him than the police would be able to protect him.

.-.-.-.

Steve finally stepped out an hour later, frustrated. No matter how much he’d wheedled, no matter how much he’d charmed, no matter how much he’d promised, Tony didn't say another word.

“You got him to flinch,” Natasha offered.

“Yeah, because I moved too fast and he thought I was gonna hit ‘im,” Steve snapped, then took a deep breath and let it back out in a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry. I know you’re trying to make me feel better. I just want to help him so badly. He’s so scared. He’s right, he’s supposed to take the fall, and I can’t blame him for not trusting us when all he knows from the police are arresting him for sleeping on park benches, nicking a sandwich so he can have his first meal in days, and for getting in the car after an undercover officer agreed to pay him for a blowjob.”

Natasha looked back through the window, tilting her head, before softly asking, “What if I went in there?”

“Captain Fury said absolutely not after the last perp sued for emotional distress you caused him,” Bucky answered immediately. He didn’t look particularly happy about it. He could understand why Fury would want it to cool off, though, at least until the dust settled from the lawsuit. He sighed when Steve began rubbing at his temples. “Listen, I’m gonna run down and get us some coffee. Definitely don’t go into the room with this guy while I’m gone,” he said slowly.

“Of course not,” Steve agreed, and Bucky turned on his heel and left.

Natasha hadn’t agreed, so she hurried to slip into the interrogation room before anyone could see her and report her to Fury. It would only take a few minutes for Bucky to get back. She had to make them count.

.-.-.-.

“You should have gone by Peaches instead of Cherry,” Natasha said as she entered the room.

Tony’s eyes darted up to hers, surprised, and his lips parted a little as if to say something, but apparently she hadn’t fit his script. “Why?” he finally asked, brows furrowing together.

“Because your ass looks like the peach emoji,” Natasha replied.

Tony stared at her, then let out a reluctant bark of laughter. “Would’ve been a bit too on the nose, wouldn’t it?” he asked, smiling a little. “‘Sides, I’d be opening myself up to too many eggplant jokes if I did that.”

“Fair,” Natasha said, shrugging, as she circled the table to sit down opposite him. “So,” she said, and didn’t outwardly react as he immediately began to shut down, building walls right in front of her eyes. She didn’t let it deter her, though, instead relaxing in her seat, calculatedly casual. “Who do you sell to?”

“I—” Tony began, frowning.

“We had eyes all over the club, and you’ve clearly had that kilo for a while,” Natasha continued when he couldn’t come up with more words. “You didn’t sell to anyone in the club even though it could have been one of the easiest places to do it. Do you have clients outside of the club?”

Tony squirmed uncomfortably. “I—” he said again, then looked down at his lap.

“Your phone only has one name in it,” Natasha added, pulling the cheap flip phone out and putting it on the table. They’d tried to trace the number, but it went to another disposable flip phone and it was currently turned off. “‘Pepper.’ Is that an alias? Should we call them?”

“No,” Tony choked out, suddenly looking more terrified than he had when he realized what was happening at the club. “Don’t.”

“Why? Would we find drugs at their place, too?” Natasha asked, flipping the phone open. “Is this your dealer? Or your client?”

“She’s my friend,” Tony said, voice cracking.

Natasha froze, finger still on the dial button. That hadn’t been what she’d been expecting. “Your friend.”

“My friend,” Tony confirmed miserably.

“...If she’s your friend, maybe she’ll be more willing to cooperate with us,” Natasha mused. “I think I’ll call her.”

“No!” Tony cried and tried to lunge over the table to stop her, handcuffs on his wrists the only thing stopping him. “No, don’t!”

“Then talk to me, Tony,” Natasha ordered. “Your dealer is selling to ten-year-olds and we want to stop him. We also want to help you, but if you’re willing to go down with him, so be it. Are you facilitating those sales?” she asked sharply. “Are you selling to kids that aren’t even in middle school yet, Tony?”

“No!” Tony whispered, eyes big and wet before he turned his head away to sniffle quietly. After a moment, he turned back to her, resigned. “What do you want to know?”

“Who do you sell to?” Natasha asked.

Tony sighed, shoulders sagging. “Pepper. Every month she puts money in a bag for me so it looks like I sold it to different people and then I flush the drugs down the toilet at her apartment. I just haven’t been able to see her because she’s been on a business trip. I’ve been using my tips to make it look like people have been paying me for it while she’s gone.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “And you expect me to believe that?”

“She takes a video of us doing it every time,” Tony admitted. “She said she wanted it in case anyone ever accused me of actually dealing. She never touches the coke. It’s just me. Said if I ever got caught, she wasn’t paying me for any drugs, just giving me a generous monthly salary for consulting and I was just disposing of cocaine I found so no one else could use it.”

“...And you think that’ll hold up in court?” Natasha asked after a moment.

Tony spread his hands uselessly. “This woman can afford to give me fifty thousand dollars in small bills every month. I think she can afford a lawyer to get her off.”

Natasha reluctantly had to agree. And if this ‘Pepper’ had no previous record, she’d probably just get off with a stern warning of ‘leave this to the police’ instead of even a slap on the wrist. “And what do you think would happen when this dealer sent someone to take over your position and had no actual clients?”

“I’ll be dead, so that doesn’t matter,” Tony told her seriously.

“What do you think will happen to Pepper?” Natasha asked.

Tony’s lips firmed into a thin line. “If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll keep his head down.”

“Oh?” Natasha asked. She opened her mouth to ask if Pepper was a competitor with his dealer, but was cut off by the sound of shouting outside. She stood to go see what was wrong but wasn’t fast enough.

The door burst open, and a woman with red hair and a suit worth more than Natasha’s entire wardrobe stormed in, mid-shout. “—Don’t care if his entire fucking  _ trunk _ was full of cocaine, why are you talking to him without a lawyer?! You’ll be lucky if we don’t sue the entire precinct! Tony, come on, we’re leaving.”

“But,” Tony began as Sam scurried in to undo his cuffs.

“There are no buts here,” the woman hissed, livid. “There is you being released with the polices’ sincerest apologies and there is us leaving.”

“But,” Tony started again.

“JUST FUCKING DO WHAT I SAY,” the woman shouted as he stood, and he flinched, and she immediately curled an arm around him and pulled him close, pressing her lips to his hair as she led him outside. “I’m sorry. Please just let me finally do something for you, Tony. Let me help.”

Natasha and Sam followed him out of the interrogation room, somewhat bewildered, and watched as a couple of armed guards fell in beside them as they walked out of the precinct.

“...Anyone wanna figure out why Virginia Potts, owner of one of the biggest tech companies in the world, just took legal responsibility for a suspected cocaine dealer?” Bucky asked.

“My testicles are currently in hiding somewhere on the other side of the country, so, hard pass,” Sam replied.

Natasha looked at the flip phone still in her hand thoughtfully, then flipped it shut, tapping it against her chin.

“I get the feeling when she realizes that you have that, she’s going to tell Fury to shit-can you,” Steve whispered in her ear, putting his hands on her hips.

“I know too many of his secrets for him to fire me,” Natasha answered immediately. “He’ll just put me on desk duty. That’s fine. I get to terrorize the rookies.”

“Be nice,” Steve scolded without heat.

“You made the rookies go to New Jersey to get you an artisan blueberry bagel and you don’t even like blueberries,” Natasha answered immediately.

“Yeah but I don’t give them sexual crises by being mean to them,” Steve replied.

Natasha shrugged one shoulder, conceding. “It’s not my fault they’re into that.”

Steve opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off by Fury coming out of his office and barking, “ROMANOV!”

“Better you than me I’ll make dinner tonight,” Steve said quickly before ducking away from her, the coward.

.-.-.-.

Natasha was just considering whether she wanted to jump Steve or have an extra helping of spaghetti when there was a knock on their door. “Are we expecting anyone?” she asked, looking at Steve in surprise.

“No, and may I just say ew, I hate this. It’s dinner time let’s ignore it.” Steve replied. He gave her puppy eyes as she got up and headed to answer the door. “What if it’s a serial killer?”

“Steve, we’re police officers,” Natasha scoffed, opening the door. She stared.

“Detective Romanov,” Fury began, Virginia Potts hovering smugly over his shoulder.

Natasha shut the door.

“Nat!” Steve barked, rushing from his seat.

“This is my house,” Natasha reasoned.

“He brought cupcakes!” Steve hissed back.

“Sometimes I hate that you’re easily bribed with food,” Natasha sighed, because Fury had used that against them before and yet it didn't stop Steve from being weak. She reluctantly opened the door again.

Virginia Potts, at least, looked a little less smug. Fury looked the same as ever. He held the box of cupcakes out. “They’re black forest jubilee,” he said.

Natasha stared at him. The word ‘jubilee’ coming out of his mouth seemed foreign and strange and yet he said it with such seriousness that she couldn’t say anything about it. She hated him for it a little.

“Thanks,” Steve said, taking the cupcakes, and turned to carry them into the kitchen. He did not offer them any.

Natasha stepped back to allow them inside. She didn’t offer them coffee, either.

“Ms. Potts and her lawyers just finished a meeting with Commissioner Carter,” Fury explained, getting straight to the point. “They came to an agreement. Mr. Stark will cooperate with us to help us infiltrate the drug ring for a commuted sentence—”

“I still think Tony shouldn’t be charged at all,” Ms. Potts said, sniffing in disgust.

“—and we will offer him protection while he helps us,” Fury continued, ignoring her. “Ms. Potts is of the opinion that my best officers should be put on the job. And of course I agreed with her.”

Natasha gripped her hands into fists, mouth dropping open a little.

Fury’s eye glinted with vicious glee. “So I’m happy to inform you that you and Rogers are on protective detail.”

This was revenge, Natasha realized. He was getting back at her for the lawsuit, and her torturing the rookies, and making him sign off on the thong Steve wore at the strip club as a work expense. This was revenge for every slight he thought she’d ever made. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out, too awed at his obvious joy. She’d never seen him happy before and she couldn’t believe it was at her expense. Except that she absolutely could.

“Oh, that’s, uh. That’s. Somethin’!” Steve squeaked, grabbing a pillow off the couch and fluffing it anxiously. “Thanks? I think?”

“Ms. Potts has graciously offered to set up a safe-house for Mr. Stark where you two will be staying with him,” Fury added, lips just barely hinting at a smirk.

“But our apartment,” Natasha began.

“I will, of course, pay for your apartment,” Ms. Potts said, rolling her eyes, as if that was the problem. “Since you’ll be doing  _ everything _ you can to keep Tony safe. Of course I’ll take care of your rent.”

Steve opened his mouth to tell her she didn’t need to do that, that they were just fine, but Natasha jabbed her fingers into his kidney to shut him up before he could. He collapsed like a sack of bricks with a wounded noise. “That sounds great,” Natasha said quickly as Ms. Potts stared down at Steve with a raised eyebrow. “We accept. Thank you for thinking of us.”

Ms. Potts continued to frown down at Steve for a moment before looking back up at her. “Of course. If you’re not worried about your apartment, you’ll be able to better focus on keeping Tony safe. He’s had a hard life and I want to make sure he lives long enough to give him a second chance after jail,” she informed her imperiously. “So please take this with the gravity it deserves: If something happens to Tony…” She pointed in each of their faces slowly, gritting out, “They will never find your bodies.”

“Did you just threaten me?” Fury asked, nonplussed.

“Captain Fury, I didn’t threaten you,” Ms. Potts replied, smug smile from before back in place. “I  _ promised _ .”

“I’m super terrified right now so I’m just gonna stay on the floor until this is over,” Steve wheezed.

Natasha wondered if she should also get on the floor, because it honestly looked like Fury and Ms. Potts were considering shooting each other and neither of them had visible guns. She comforted herself with the fact that they’d save a couple grand with Ms. Potts paying their rent and they could finally start looking for a better place than this hole in the wall. It wasn’t like they kept anything of value here anyway.

.-.-.-.

“Oh,” Tony said, surprised, when he got up in the morning to find two very familiar faces in the kitchen.

Ms. Potts handed him a cup of coffee. “Tony, these are the detectives that will be protecting you while they work on this case. Please try for once in your life not to do everything yourself and let them help you while you help them.”

“Can’t promise,” Tony said, taking a sip of his coffee, eyes not straying from Steve and Natasha.

He looked somewhat distrusting. Natasha couldn’t blame him, not after the way he’d been arrested, not after realizing he was meant to take his dealer’s fall and would be killed if he didn’t. Especially after Steve had admitted that they’d been sort of friendly before that day he got really squirrely, so the realization that Steve wasn’t really someone he could trust probably hit him hard. Natasha figured he’d been getting anxious because he’d had the kilo too long and was considering what to do with it if Ms. Potts didn’t arrive in time, so that had also colored Steve’s betrayal.

Tony looked different in jeans and a band t-shirt, she thought, looking him up and down. Softer, somehow. A little more tired, but a little more hopeful, too, as Ms. Potts pressed a kiss to his forehead before she left.

“You and Ms. Potts a thing, peaches?” Natasha asked, drizzling some honey over her toast.

Tony swiveled back toward them, brows furrowing together in confusion. “Huh? Oh. No, we’re just—I helped her out of a tough spot and so she’s been trying to help me out of mine ever since,” he explained, shrugging uncomfortably. “And I’m… Strippers aren’t really her type.”

“She’s missing out, peaches,” Natasha informed him, taking a bite of her toast. She spoke around her mouthful, adding, “Sit down. Steve’s making breakfast.”

Steve smacked her lightly over the head with his spatula, scolding, “Don’t talk with your mouth full. That’s gross.”

“Omelette,” Natasha said, spewing crumbs, and made grabby hands at the frying pan he was holding.

“And stop calling Tony ‘peaches’ without permission,” Steve ordered, sliding the omelette onto her plate. “Tony, what do you want in your omelette?”

“Um, onions and peppers I guess…?” Tony replied, uncertain.

“I’ve got some bacon, too, you want that?” Steve asked, and smiled when Tony nodded hesitantly, sitting down at the table. “Sorry about Natasha. She was raised by wolves.”

Natasha narrowed her eyes at Steve. “You’re just mad that your butt doesn’t look like the peach emoji like Tony’s does.”

“Honey, I’m really concerned by how obsessed with food you are,” Steve sighed. “First you call me a Dorito, now you’re calling Tony ‘peaches.’ Is there something you want to tell me?”

“No because Doritos aren’t allowed to have opinions,” Natasha told him with a straight face.

Tony spewed his coffee across the table.

.-.-.-.

It took time, but eventually, cautiously, Tony opened up to them.

It started slowly. He was matter-of-fact, didn’t let personal details slip. He was kicked out on his eighteenth birthday and legally disowned the same day. He didn’t have many friends, and those he did have were either unable to help or too afraid of his parents to try.

He’d been twenty-three when he’d taken his first snort of cocaine. He’d been complaining to one of the hookers who had taken him under her wing, so hungry his stomach was cramping, and she’d offered to let him have some of hers. ‘Helps with the hunger pangs,’ she’d said. And she was right. He wasn’t as hungry when he did coke, could go longer between meals. It had the added bonus of making him feel good, if only for a while, which had felt like an oasis in the steady downhill of his life.

He probably would have continued down that path had he not woken up one morning beside one of the people he usually did drugs with and found him cold, eyes sightless, body stiff.

“He was so young,” Tony croaked, apparently unable to help it, as if he’d just been waiting for someone to tell this to, share his pain. “Just a baby. He got into drugs in college, trying to be accepted, trying to come off as cool. All I could do was hold him in my arms until I heard the sirens, and then I ran away. I should have stayed,” he whispered, clasping his hands together. “But I was scared if I stayed, I’d still never be able to bring myself stop. Like his death wouldn’t have been enough.”

Steve slid an arm around his shoulders and squeezed gently. Natasha ached at the thought of him waking up, coming down from his high, only to be shocked sober when he realized an acquaintance (a friend?) was lying next to him, dead. No wonder he’d taken every kilo he was given and dumped it down the toilet. He hadn’t told them how that had started—they hadn’t gotten that far in his story, after all—but she imagined the events leading up to it couldn’t be good.

.-.-.-.

Tony got braver. Instead of pussyfooting around the (frankly incredible) apartment Ms. Potts had rented for them, as if he was intruding, he’d walk around with more confidence. He took the crossword from the paper while Steve read sports and Natasha read the front page. He found a book Steve had left on the couch and asked if he could read it. He saw Natasha glaring at the nails on her right hand as she tried to paint them without smudging polish on her skin  _ again _ and took the brush from her hand to do it himself, painting them perfectly in a few smooth strokes.

Most notably, Tony came walking out of the bathroom soaking wet and naked at one in the morning while Natasha was talking Steve through an anxiety attack and they both watched, stunned silent, as he walked to the kitchen, grabbed the bottle of orange juice from the fridge, and then walked back into the bathroom, where the shower started again.

“The healthier version of shower beer?” Steve suggested.

“Steve, and I say this with all the love and judgement in my heart, what the fuck is shower beer,” Natasha asked.

Steve was silent for so long that she feared he’d just quietly returned to freaking-the-fuck-out, but finally he said, “I don’t want to tell you because you’ll call me an idiot.”

Natasha stared at him for a very long time, before saying a preemptive, “Idiot.” She looked it up on her phone, then looked at him again, even more judgmental. “ _ Idiot _ .”

Tony had no memory of this occurring when he came out of his room the next morning, and this was how they learned that he would sometimes sleep walk from Ms. Potts. Apparently he’d scared the piss out of her the few times he’d stayed over and she worked late and she’d looked up to find him fresh out of the shower in front of the fridge like some sort of  _ Gremlins _ reject. It was somewhat comforting to know that Tony could catch even the most put-together people off-guard.

.-.-.-.

Tony was smart.

They’d known that, of course, at least in an abstract fashion; Tony could carry on lengthy conversations with thought-out opinions, had showed he was a quick learner when Steve offered to show him how to make a few dishes, and he’d been open to learning how to crochet when he’d seen Natasha doing it one night and had picked it up swiftly as well.

But they hadn’t really known how smart he was until he’d heard Natasha complaining about the battery on her cell phone and he’d said, “Oh, it’s a Hammer model, they’ve always had shitty batteries. You should have held out until the new Resilient model came out. We figured out how to get better power output while slimming the physical battery down so the phone isn’t too heavy. At this point, the Resilient battery is expected to last twice as long as Hammer Tech, Apple,  _ and _ Samsung.”

“‘We?’” Steve asked, surprised.

Tony blinked up at him. “Yeah? Pepper always insisted I actually do some work for her so that the money she gave me could be reasonably seen as a salary instead of a payment for the coke.”

“Wow,” Natasha couldn’t help but say.

Tony blinked at them both for a moment, then smiled mischievously. “I’m more than just a peach emoji butt, guys.”

Steve snorted his soda up his nose as Natasha started laughing so hard she tipped her chair over backward.

.-.-.-.

Tony eventually told them how it started. Natasha ended up reaching out to grip his hand so tight that she lost feeling in her own.

“Thought I had it made,” Tony whispered, smiling self-deprecatingly at his lap. “This guy really seemed to like me. Took me out for dinner, told me I was strong for getting off drugs. Told me everything I wanted to hear, made me feel good and wanted. I hadn’t felt that way in so long. And then after dinner one night I just… passed out. I guess he put something in my drink,” he added, scratching at his chin awkwardly. “I don’t remember anything that happened after he put his hand on my knee.”

“Tony,” Steve started, lump in his throat, but Tony just smiled sadly and shook his head, so he clasped his hands together, tight, until his knuckles went white and his nails dug into his skin.

“He’d taken pictures, while I was out,” Tony continued, unable to look at them. “They were absolutely obscene. Sometimes I get sick just thinking about them. And he said if I didn’t—if I didn’t do what he wanted, he’d—” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “I didn’t know he was a drug dealer then,” he whispered. “He did everything he could to make it seem like he was a nice, normal guy. But then he had the pictures, and he said I was going to help him, and if I didn’t, he was going to give those pictures to some of his associates so they knew who I was, and tell them that I liked it, and they could do whatever they wanted with me.

“I was so shocked I didn’t even know how to feel,” he whispered, beginning to tremble. “Sometimes I got a rough customer on the streets but I’d never had someone force themselves on me, not really. And then someone I’d grown to trust did… did  _ that _ to me and I couldn’t believe it, and then he started talking and everything was going so fast. But I knew… I knew what he meant when he said that I had to help him or else. If I didn’t do what he wanted, he was going to have me raped and murdered, and I’d have been a prostitute with no friends and no family, so who would have cared? And I didn’t… I didn’t want my death to be like that.”

He sniffed softly. “So I sold the drugs that he gave me, and I let him use my body whenever he wanted, and I kept my head down. Thank God he lost interest when I stopped reacting during sex. And that’s all bad enough,” Tony added, voice cracking. “That’s bad enough on its own, but I know why this happened, why he escalated so fast. One time when I went to take him money, I heard—there was yelling, and I didn’t want to walk into a fight, so I went around to peek in the window.

“He was arguing with someone. I didn’t recognize who it was. But the longer I stood there watching them argue the more I felt something bad was going to happen. So I started to leave, and that… that’s when I heard the shots, and the shouting stopped. I didn’t know what to do so I went to the bar down the street and nursed a beer for an hour trying to figure it out, and eventually I decided to act like I hadn’t been there at all and went back later like it was the first time I’d been there that day. He wouldn’t let me in the apartment. Still cleaning it I guess. He took the money through the door and said he’d have another kilo for me later, so I just said okay and booked it.

“I think he knew I was there somehow, though. I tried to act as much as I could, but there are just some things you can’t pretend about, and knowing he was perfectly willing to commit murder was one of them. That’s why I knew he’d kill me,” Tony added shakily, finally looking up at them. “I had to keep my mouth shut and go to jail, proving that I was at least afraid of him if I wasn’t outright loyal. If I didn’t, I’d always be a threat. He’d already pulled the trigger on someone else. I knew he’d have no problem doing the same to me.”

Natasha and Steve stared at him, shocked dumb.

So it wasn’t just drug dealing. Tony had been sexually assaulted, blackmailed, intimidated, and now it turned out he’d also witnessed a murder. And of course he wouldn’t go to the police—they’d already proved they wouldn’t help him when he was homeless and starving and just trying to provide for himself. How could he be sure they’d even believe him? So he’d swallowed down his suffering, put his head down, and kept going, hoping he would be okay. Who could blame him for that?

“Steve!” Tony yelped as Steve grabbed him and pulled him into his lap.

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispered, holding him tightly, pressing his nose into Tony’s hair. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. I’m sorry no one helped you.”

“I—” Tony began, overwhelmed. “I—”

“I’m sorry,” Steve said again. “That no one took even a moment out of their day to give you a single resource to try and help you instead of tossing you in a cell. And I’m sorry that I was one of those people, too.”

Tony went very, very still for a moment, shocked, and then he took a slow, deep breath, as if trying to center himself. And then he just… erupted, shoulders shaking with sobs that he quickly tried to muffle, except that Natasha was still clinging to his hands. Giving up, he threw his head back and just let the sobs come, as if he’d never cried for himself before and might not ever get the chance to again.

Steve and Natasha just held him through it, hearts breaking for him, and wondered at how a man could suffer so much and still be brave enough to crack himself open and let himself be vulnerable in front of the very people who had arrested him this last time.

.-.-.-.

In the end, for all they got Tony to open up, to share what had happened to him so they could put together the pieces to catch the dealer that had threatened him and was dealing drugs to children, for all the time they'd spent with him poring over mugshots of people to try and identify who his dealer was arguing with, and for all that they’d promised him they would keep him safe and that no one would ever hurt him again, they did a piss-poor job of protecting him.

“What the fuck are you doing,” Ms. Potts choked when Steve stood and spread his arms in front of her.

“I’m letting you murder me like you promised,” Steve informed her.

“Tony jumped in front of you and got shot,” Ms. Potts sputtered. “You didn’t  _ throw _ him in front of you. I actually have it on pretty good authority that you told him specifically to stay in the safe-house with two other officers while you went to arrest his drug dealer and  _ he snuck out after you. _ ”

Natasha grabbed the back of Steve’s shirt and tugged him back down into the seat beside her. She grabbed his hand in hers, tight, and then let go again when she saw the blood dried in his nail beds, at the edges of his sleeves, from where he’d immediately followed Tony to the ground, hands pressing over the bullet wounds to try and stem the flow of blood.

There had been a lot of blood, she thought, staring down at her own clean hands. Maybe she should have tried to stop the blood, too, instead of opening fire. Because now Tony’s dealer was dead, and Tony had looked so hopeful when she’d said that with the evidence he’d helped them obtain, his dealer would never see sky outside of prison walls again. Now he was dead, and he wouldn’t have to answer for an ounce of suffering he’d caused, another dead, nameless face in the war on drugs.

And maybe Tony would be, too, if the doctors couldn’t help him. Maybe Tony would be another victim senselessly lost after all he’d suffered, and all he’d tried to do to overcome it.

“Hey,” Ms. Potts said softly, gently taking one of Natasha’s hands between her own. “Tony made his choice, and if that choice meant seeing that asshole caught with his own eyes no matter the danger, that’s not on you. When a person is hurt as much as Tony was hurt, there’s never really anything another person can do to help him. Don’t blame yourself for his decision, Detective Romanov. It was the first thing he’s really gotten to choose since the beginning. Don’t do him the disservice of taking that away from him.”

“I don’t even know if he liked it when I called him ‘peaches,’” Natasha said, not knowing what else to say. Anything else would have been too close to trying to take his decision away from him, like Ms. Potts had said, and that left only the personal. He’d always looked amused when she called him that, but he’d never actually said whether he liked it or not. Maybe he hadn’t. Maybe she’d never know. Maybe his last thought had been that her last words to him had been 'we'll be back, peaches,' and he didn't even like being called that.

Ms. Potts smiled sadly. “You know the first text he ever sent me was after he was in protective custody? Before that, he was too afraid to put anything in writing. I felt so happy that I screenshot it.” She pulled out her phone, unlocked the screen, and then turned it around so she could show her.

> From Tony:  
In keeping up with food-themed nicknames, I demand to be saved in all phones as “🍑🍑🍑”

> From Tony:  
Pepper did you save it

> From Tony:  
Did you save it

> From Tony:  
I saved you as “🌶🌶🌶”

> From Tony:  
Are you ignoring me? Joke’s on you I saved the entire bee movie script and if you don’t respond I will send it in its entirety

> From Me:  
You’re the devil and if you do that I WILL come and chuck your phone in the garbage disposal

> From Tony:  
Okay but did you save it

Natasha stared at the phone, speechless, then let out a soft, watery chuckle. The chuckles soon gave way to sobs. “Ms. Potts, he was so scared. He kept begging us not to let him go. What if we didn’t do enough? What if he doesn’t know we cared?”

“Detective Romanov,” Ms. Potts began, and then sighed softly and started again, more gently. “Natasha. Six weeks ago, Tony sent me a text telling me that he’d finally told someone what happened to him, and he felt filthy about it. And then he said that the hug Steve gave him had been the first real affection, first real comfort he’d gotten in eighteen years. He said that all you did was hold his hands and let him speak without judgement, and that had been the first time for that, too. Know this, if nothing else: Tony knew you cared.”

Steve shuddered next to her, and Natasha turned to look up at him, heart breaking a little when she saw him openly weeping, staring down at his hands, the stained cuffs of his shirt. She reached out to put her free hand in one of his and leaned her forehead against his shoulder.

“He deserved more than anyone has ever given him,” he croaked, lifting one hand to cover his face.

Ms. Potts’s expression was pitying, but there was understanding there, too. “I know. But Tony had to understand that before he ever could have accepted it. But I think you and Natasha helped him realize he might be worth it, Steve.” She reached out to unbutton the cuffs of his sleeves. “Let’s get you into something clean, hey?”

Steve suddenly seemed to realize that he was still wearing a shirt covered in Tony’s blood and jerked to tear it off, sobbing.

.-.-.-.

“Oh my God I’m on so many drugs,” Tony said.

“Well, you did have to have several bullets removed. One almost nicked your heart so I’m never forgiving you by the way,” Ms. Potts informed him imperiously.

Tony blinked up at her slowly. “But you don’t have a choice,” he slurred after a moment. “‘Cause I’m cute.”

Ms. Potts tried to keep a straight face. “You are not.”

Tony pointed at the general vicinity of his face—mostly just pointed at his eyebrow. “Look. This is cute.”

Ms. Potts made a “snrk” sound and then turned so he wouldn’t have the satisfaction of seeing her laugh.

“Oh,” Tony said when he saw Steve and Natasha hovering the doorway. He looked entirely surprised to see them. “Oh, you’re here.”

“Why wouldn’t we be here, Tony?” Natasha asked, trying not to look as hurt as she felt.

“Because I didn’t follow orders,” he said. He paused to cross his eyes to stare at his nose, wondering, then jerked as if he’d just remembered he was talking. “And I got hurt. I thought you’d be really mad.”

“Tony,” Natasha said, less hurt and more devastated for him.

Steve approached the bed and took one of his hands, and Tony looked very interested in staring at their hands in surprise before looking up at him in wonder. “Tony,” Steve said sternly. “We are very, very mad. We’re gonna talk about how mad we are later. Right now, though, we’re just gonna bask in how glad we are that you pulled through and that you’re gonna be okay.”

Natasha came up beside him and put her hands on top of Steve’s, stroking her thumbs over Steve’s knuckles and the inside of Tony’s wrist. “You gave us a scare,” she added gently. “So right now we’re mostly relieved. But we’re going to have to talk about what happened when you’re better.”

Tony frowned up at them for a very, very long time before breathing, “Steve really is shaped like a Dorito, Natasha.”

The room was silent for a minute before both Ms. Potts and Natasha began screeching with laughter. Natasha let go of their hands to turn and brace her hands on her knees, sucking in wheezing breaths between guffaws. Ms. Potts lost her battle with gravity and fell into a chair, clutching her stomach.

Steve frowned at them severely. “I can’t believe you’d laugh when Tony is clearly in need of quiet support.”

“You’re such a fucking meatball, Steve,” Natasha sobbed between laughs. “Oh God. It hurts. Oh my God.”

“He’s a Dorito,” Tony tried to insist.

“Just for that, neither of you get to hold his hands,” Steve told them, taking Tony’s other hand and sitting in the other chair, choosing to ignore them.

Somehow it was only funnier, and Natasha and Ms. Potts could only cover their faces as they cried with laughter.

Tony stared at them, silent, considering, before he turned his attention to Steve. “Steve,” he said seriously. “I like Doritos.”

“Then I guess it’s good that Natasha and I both like peaches,” Steve replied kindly.

Tony stared at him, uncomprehending, before asking, “Like the fruit, or like… my butt?”

“I mean you as a person, Tony,” Steve said. “ _ You’re _ a peach.”

“It’s okay if you include my butt as my person,” Tony told him.

Steve’s shoulders shook with the desire to laugh. “You’re seriously going to make Ms. Potts and Natasha piss themselves laughing, honey.”

“Honey-peach,” Tony replied, and then, “Oh my God I’m on so many drugs. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Steve cooed, and then rolled his eyes when Natasha and Ms. Potts howled again. “We have all had a very stressful day. Please calm down so Tony can sleep.”

“Tony’s already asleep,” Ms. Potts wheezed.

Steve sighed, patting Tony’s hand. “They’re going to pick on us so much,” he told Tony sadly.

Tony snored.

.-.-.-.

Tony was kept in the hospital for three weeks. Ms. Potts—“You actively kept Tony from bleeding out, guys, you can call me Pepper. At least call me Virginia. Please Tony keeps making fun of me I need it to stop.”—was at Tony’s side as often as possible. When she couldn’t be, Steve and Natasha were, alternating between scolding him viciously for putting himself in danger and aggressively cuddling him when the nurses weren’t looking because they may have been mad but the relief won out more often.

“What are you going to do when you get out?” Natasha asked, peeling an apple for him.

“You don’t need to peel my apple,” Tony said, but held his hands out for a slice anyway. They’d learned that he adored being cared for; the push-back was just a courtesy to give them an out. They chose not to think about why he felt the need to do that. “And, um… I don’t know. Pepper said she’d give me a job. A real one this time, not just some consulting every once in a while. I thought I might get some ideas down while I’m in jail.”

Steve and Natasha turned to raise their eyebrows at him. “In jail?” Steve said.

Tony frowned at him, looking between Steve and Natasha uncertainly. “I… I remember, Pepper said that some of the charges couldn’t be dropped. So I have… jail time to serve,” he said, brows furrowing together. “Which is fine. I broke the law. I should serve my time for it. I’ve read up on some of the programs the prison offers, too. Pepper said she’d help pay for me to… to get a college degree while I'm there, if I want. I always wanted to go to school,” he added, mostly to himself.

“I think you’d be really great it,” Natasha offered.

Tony managed a shy smile. “You think so?”

“Smart guy like you? You’ll be running circles around the teachers,” Steve replied. He reached out and gave his knee a gentle squeeze, adding, “You always wanted to learn what we were doing if you didn’t know what it was. A willingness like that will be great for school. You’ll do great.”

Tony brightened at the praise. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Natasha confirmed, smiling, and decided not to tell him that he probably wouldn’t be in jail long enough to finish a degree. They hadn’t been able to prosecute his dealer, but they’d been able to gather enough evidence to at least put a dent in the cocaine distribution around the city. She’d be surprised if he had to stay in jail for an entire year.

.-.-.-.

Tony walked out of prison three months to the day he went in. He’d somehow managed to get a degree in that time, and showed them proudly when they came to pick him up. Apparently the warden had been so impressed that he’d kept the physical copy for him until he was released.

“Tony, that’s incredible!” Steve exclaimed as Natasha got him to pose with it for a picture.

Tony looked down at his feet bashfully. “They kept me in solitary for my safety, so there wasn’t really much else to do. I figured I’d just get ahead on my homework. And then there wasn’t any homework left to do. It’s just a bachelor’s, but… It’s still pretty good, considering the last degree I got was a high school diploma, right?”

“Tony,” Natasha told him sternly. “This is not ‘just’ a bachelor’s degree. This is a bachelor’s degree that you got in three months while in prison. Don’t sell yourself short.”

Tony smiled a little, turning his degree around so he could see it again. “Okay.” He looked back up at them, brows furrowing together. “I… thought Pepper was going to come pick me up?”

Natasha frowned at him. “Are you not happy to see us?”

“What?!” Tony yelped. “Of course I’m happy to see you! I just thought—I mean, I didn’t think—I mean—Well—”

“She had to host a meeting with some potential investors from Europe suddenly,” Steve said, taking pity on him, and reached out to pinch Natasha’s butt to silently scold her for being mean. The man had just gotten out of prison, after all.

“AGH,” Natasha squawked, and then turned and shot him a look that promised painful retribution when he least expected it.

Steve didn’t care, mostly because it usually led to more pleasurable things later. Instead he kept his eyes on Tony, adding, “And we offered to pick you up for her. Maybe even, you know, take you out to lunch. Maybe a walk in the park.”

Tony smiled shyly down at his feet. “Sounds kinda like a date, guys.”

“It is,” Natasha replied immediately. “It is a date. We want to take you on a date, Tony. Please tell me if you need me to repeat this more in different ways because I do not want you to have any shadow of a doubt of what we intend.”

Tony blinked at them, stunned stupid. “D-date?” he repeated dumbly.

“Yes,” Steve agreed. “We want to date you, Tony.”

Tony looked back and forth between them, mouth flapping uselessly. It was the most bewildered they’d ever seen him. It was honestly sort of fantastic. Finally, though, he managed to find his voice and ask, “Why?”

Natasha and Steve, to their credit, thought about how to answer. Eventually, Steve answered, “I mean. You’re pretty incredible, Tony. Why wouldn’t we want to date you?”

“I—” Tony began, then stopped. He stared at them a little longer before he tried again, saying, “I’m a criminal.”

“Honey, I truly would not wish to meet a more sympathetic criminal than you. I might just lie down and die,” Steve admitted. “You were dealt a shitty hand and you managed to do better than anyone ever would have expected. You actively tried to protect people despite the danger to you by doing so. You’re a pretty incredible person, Tony.”

Tony swallowed thickly, staring at him, like he wanted to believe him but couldn’t bring himself to.

“Also we like your butt,” Natasha added. “The peach emoji thing has never actually been a joke. Your butt is perfect. I’m actually, sincerely jealous of how great your ass looks, peaches.”

“You have a nice butt too,” Tony hurried to assure her, and then squeaked and glanced between her and Steve again. “I mean. Not that I’ve been looking or anything. Because I haven’t. But you did yoga in the living room, so. Your butt was there and so were my eyes.”

Steve finally took pity on him and said, “Tony, I don’t mind that you were looking at Natasha’s butt.”

Tony sagged with relief. “I’ve been looking at yours too. It’s weird seeing a butt on a Dorito.”

“Oh my God get in the car,” Steve sighed, rolling his eyes, and circled around to get into the driver’s seat.

“He said your ass is the perfect handful for each hand,” Natasha told Tony, smirking.

Tony looked back at his butt, considering. “Really?”

“Get in the car!” Steve barked out the window. “Or neither of you get lunch!”

Tony and Natasha scrambled to get into the car, too unwilling to be left out of lunch to continue sassing him.

“It doesn’t have to be a date,” Natasha added after a few minutes, concerned. “If you don’t want it to be. We don’t want to pressure you or anything. If you don’t see us that way, it’s fine. We won’t hold it against you. We just wanted to put all of our cards on the table. We almost lost you, so we decided we'd take the chance. If you say no, we won't have a problem with that either. We just want you, any way we can have you.”

Tony stared out the window for a few minutes, silent, thoughtful, only shrugging one shoulder to show that he’d heard her. Steve and Natasha shared a look, concerned. They’d never wanted to push him. They’d just wanted to make sure their feelings were known. Hopefully Tony didn’t feel pressured. They’d have to show him how willing they were to back off once they finally parked. They could be just friends. Tony was special enough that they could swallow any feelings down to make sure they didn’t lose him.

“A date sounds nice,” Tony said softly, so quiet they almost didn’t catch it.

Steve glanced at him in the rear-view mirror quickly, startled, but immediately turned his eyes back on the road. Natasha leaned over just a little, slow enough that Tony didn’t notice. She couldn’t help her shoulders relaxing when she saw him staring out the window, the smallest of smiles playing at his lips. She leaned back in her seat, smiling, and reached out to put her hand on top of Steve’s. He flipped his over to grab back and lifted her hand, squeezing it tight in a little cheer that Tony pretended he didn’t see.

And then she said, “Peaches and Doritos sounds like the worst combo ever, but I’ll make it work,” and laughed when Steve yelled that she was gross while Tony cackled in the back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clearly I know nothing about the prison/justice system but luckily this is fan fiction so it doesn't matter!


	28. Carol Danvers/James Rhodes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really struggled for what pairing to fill this with because I feel like the characters needed to be right for it. I finally decided on Carol/Rhodey! I have never actually seen or read "Fight Club" so enjoy!

Fight Club AU

It started, as all things seemed to, with Carol not being taken seriously.

Sure, she was new to the team. She was one of the few women on it, but she’d had years more experience than many of the men. And yet she still got passed over for promotions, the acknowledgement of her help barely a footnote at the bottoms of their projects. She was the one footing most of the intellectual (and sometimes physical) effort and yet she was rarely rewarded for it.

Every time she tried to bring it up, her bosses told her that they knew how hard she worked, but because she was so new they thought morale would suffer if the newest employee rocketed up the ranks. She’d get her turn if she'd wait. She just had to be patient.

Yon-Rogg had noticed.

“I know how you could let off some steam,” he’d said, and then, “Give it a try,” and, “No one will have to know.”

Carol had brushed him off for a while, but after once more watching someone else she’d helped get a promotion instead of her, she eventually caved.

“Hit me as hard as you can,” Yon-Rogg had told her over the jeers of the crowd.

“What? No,” Carol replied immediately, skeptical.

“Hit me as hard as you can,” Yon-Rogg told her again. “Because once they signal the start of the fight, I’ll be hitting you as hard as I can, too.”

Carol hadn’t believed him, but as she pushed herself off the ground, wiping blood from her nose, she swore she’d never give him that doubt again.

.-.-.-.

Carol didn't get to fight much, at first. At least she was told why, though, instead of having to watch and seethe as others did. She was new; she still needed to learn the ropes, because yeah, they beat the shit out of each other, but there were rules about it, some of them unspoken, so she needed to observe and figure out what those unspoken rules were.

They were pretty easy: Fight only when you actually wanted to fight. Fight only inside the ring. Be ready and willing to give it your all. Don’t hold back. If someone taps out, back off. If someone’s knocked out, back off. And most important: Don’t talk about it. Not to cops, not to hospitals, not to your family or friends. The ring was for people who wanted to blow off steam, and so they had to accept the risks that came with it.

Carol still about shit her pants when she saw a kid step into the ring, though.

“That’s gonna be a good one,” she said, examining his face in the dingy light of the diner she’d brought him too. His eye was already swelling and purpling. “Why this, kid?”

“I was tired of being high,” he replied mulishly.

Carol stared at him for a long, hard minute, then ordered him a slice of pie.

“I’m Tony,” the kid said when he was done.

“I’m just a gal who saw you stumbling on the sidewalk and brought you in so you wouldn’t pass out on the street,” Carol told him flatly before she got up and left.

.-.-.-.

Tony started showing up more. Carol suspected he had a lot more wrong with him than most people in the ring.

“Won’t someone miss you?” she asked over fries. The salt stung the cut on her lip, but she kinda liked it.

Tony shrugged one shoulder, for a moment looking as endlessly young as she thought he was. Then his face hardened. “No,” he said.

Carol somehow doubted that, but she didn’t push. The ring was for punching out your problems, after all, not talking about them.

.-.-.-.

A man showed up at the diner a few months later, looking absolutely livid. “C’mere,” he hissed, grabbing Tony by the collar and dragging him up out of the booth.

“Hey!” Carol exclaimed angrily, beginning to stand, but then Tony let out a little sob and just buried his face in the man’s chest, clinging to him.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” the man growled angrily, hugging him back. He glanced up at Carol, expression softening for a minute. “Thanks for keeping an eye out for him.”

Carol hadn’t been, not really, but she stuck her hand out awkwardly anyway. “Carol Danvers.”

“James Rhodes,” the man said, giving her a short handshake before wrapping his arm back around Tony. “It’s okay, buddy. Just let it all out.”

“Mom’s gone,” Tony sobbed. “And so is Howard, and Obie locked me out of the company until I’m twenty-one!”

“I know,” James said gently, and then, “Let’s get you a chocolate milkshake, huh?”

Carol swallowed down the lump in her throat. Dear God. Tony wasn’t even twenty-one yet and he was getting the shit beat out of him at an underground fighting ring every weekend. And she thought she had problems.

.-.-.-.

James started showing up to the fights, looking displeased but resigned.

“Doesn’t look like your kind of scene, James,” Carol commented, looking him up and down, his well-worn jeans and sneakers and an MIT sweatshirt that was threadbare at the hems.

“If Tony doesn’t want to stop, anything I do will just make him circumvent me to do it anyway, so I might as well be here to make sure he stays safe,” he explained, shrugging uncomfortably. “And… Jim, please.”

Carol hummed, acknowledging. She figured the same could be said for her. And he looked more like a Jim anyway. She bumped shoulders with him, softly saying, “Hey, for what it’s worth? I didn’t realize he was an actual infant when he stepped into the ring.”

“Well, he wasn’t your responsibility anyway,” Jim reasoned.

Tony tried to tap out at the end of a fight, but his opponent wouldn’t let him. Before anyone else could make it into the ring, Jim climbed the bars separating them like a wild man and tackled the other man with a snarl, and he didn’t stop hitting him until Carol and another guy dragged Tony from the ring and called that he was out and okay.

Carol gave Jim a long once-over as he finally allowed himself to be pulled up off the guy Tony had been fighting, speculative.

.-.-.-.

Jim invited her out after a fight one night.

“You’re quite the gentleman, Jim,” Carol commented.

Jim rolled his eyes, amused. “Yup, so classy, bringing my date out to my favorite bar.”

“The burgers are as good you said,” Carol had to admit reluctantly. “They really are the best.”

Jim shrugged, smiling ruefully. “I found this place when I was looking for Tony. He’s always been a sucker for burgers.”

Carol stared at him so long she eventually had to put down her burger, stunned. “You said Tony isn’t even twenty-one yet.”

“He isn’t,” Jim sighed. “But he’s got money. He’s got the best fake ID money can buy, and enough money to grease any palms that would call him on it.”

“Man,” Carol said after some thought. “And I thought I had problems.”

Jim laughed a little. It sounded sad. “Your problems are just as real and big as Tony’s.”

“Hmm,” she acknowledged. She thought it might be different. Carol had stopped talking to her family willingly; Tony’s had been taken very suddenly away. And no one she thought cared for her had locked her out of her family’s business. Still, it was nice to be told that her problems were valid, especially when Jim didn’t know the extent of them. She looked back up at him. “Hey, you wanna have sex?”

Jim blinked at her. “...Can I finish my burger?”

“I’m not a monster, James,” Carol scoffed, and picked her burger up again as well. “We’ll need the energy anyway.”

Jim snorted his beer out his nose, and Carol laughed at him. It was the nicest interaction with a man she’d had in a long time.

.-.-.-.

“I really hate that you guys do this,” Jim said one night, staring up at the ceiling.

Carol lifted her head, blinking at him slowly. “What? Sleep around?”

“If you’re safe, I actually don’t care who you have sex with, and you owe me a box of condoms by the way,” Jim said. “No. I hate that you guys go out and beat the shit out of each other.”

Carol shrugged. “It’s a release.”

“It’s stupid,” Jim replied sharply. “You punch the shit out of each other and hope you don’t concuss the other too much. That’s stupid. There are other ways to deal with your problems.”

“If you don’t like it,” Carol began, sitting up and glaring at him. “Then don’t hang out with us!”

“Tony’s twenty, did you know that?” Jim asked. “Twenty and already been to the hospital for three head injuries and broken ribs.”

“Then maybe he should work on guarding his right side more,” Carol began, flippant.

Jim sat up and stared her down before he finally said, “Get out.”

“What,” Carol began, glaring at him again. “Jim!”

“I made my peace with watching Tony get the shit beat out of himself,” Jim said coldly. “He’s actually started fighting less since he finally went to that grief counseling I’ve been hounding him about. But you, you’re not getting any better. In fact, you’re getting worse.”

Carol scowled. “There’s no getting worse or getting better. There’s only winning the fight.”

“And that’s why I was okay being just sex to you in the beginning,” Jim said. “But I’m not okay with that now. I’m saying this because I care, Carol. So I don’t want to see you spiral out of control. You’re older than Tony. Fucking grow up,” he spat, then got out of bed and stormed into the bathroom.

Carol got up too, dressing with short, sharp movements as she tried to control her anger.

Sure, Jim  _ cared _ . Like this was caring or something. Sort of like when her bosses were always so  _ sorry _ , but the promotion had to go to someone else. Just wait your turn, Carol. Wait for the men you’re supposed to work with to stop throwing you under the bus. Wait for another position to come up. Wait for Tony to grow up so I can give you the attention you need. Wait, wait, wait. She was sick of it. She was smart, and capable, and she got shit done. She was tired of waiting for other people to decide she was finally worth their time.

She slammed the door to Jim’s apartment as hard as she could, and then froze when she heard glass shatter. Shit. The picture on the door. The one of Jim and Tony at their graduation. ‘So you can remember I’m always there for you when you leave,’ Jim had told Tony, and he’d looked so grateful. She felt a knot of shame form in her stomach but ignored it. Jim didn’t want her anyway, so why should she care?

.-.-.-.

“I think this is gonna be my last fight,” Tony said, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“Oh?” Carol asked, trying for flippant, even if all she wanted was to ask where Jim was. He hadn’t come. Hadn’t been there the last few times Tony had shown up, either. She’d gone home and slept on what had happened, and even if she was pissed about what he said, she’d still come to the realization that she needed to at least apologize for the picture. It wasn’t Tony’s fault that she was mad, after all, and she’d really never meant to damage his property.

Tony nodded. “Yeah. I think I’ve outgrown it. I finally told my therapist about it, and we’ve been working on coping skills. I’ve been breaking plates with a hammer, and then using the pieces to make art. Kinda? I’ve been told it’s art. Mostly I just like trying to find patterns. Anyway, I don’t think I need this anymore. Do you want one?”

Carol turned to blink at him. “Huh? A hammer?”

“A piece of art,” Tony sighed, rolling his eyes.

“I mean, if you don’t think it’s art, why would I want it?” Carol asked, corner of her mouth tipping up into a smile to take some of the sting out of it.

“I made one shaped like a star,” Tony said, guileless as ever. “It reminds me of you.”

Carol rolled her eyes fondly and ruffled his hair. “Sure. If you want to give it to me.”

Tony beamed up at her. He really was so young, she lamented. Maybe it was better that he wouldn’t come back after this. He could do so much more than this, anyway.

.-.-.-.

Carol thought that she could maybe understand why Tony had started fighting.

“He’s not related to you!” a bald man roared, spit flying from his mouth in rage.

“I have medical power of attorney,” the woman in front of him informed him coldly, holding up some paperwork. “My son is the primary, and when he’s deployed out of state, I am the secondary. My son is currently deployed, so I am in charge of what happens to Tony.”

“We’ll see about that,” the man snarled, and then turned to storm out, making a few nurses yelp and scramble out of his way when he made no motion to avoid just walking over them.

The woman glared after him until he was gone, then let out a sigh, shoulders sagging, and turned to Carol. “They said you brought him in?”

“Yeah,” Carol answered awkwardly, picking at her nails when she thought about all the rules she’d broken.

The asshole Jim had tackled the first time he’d shown up to the fights had jumped Tony as he was leaving, and Carol had only stumbled upon them because she’d realized she still had Tony’s lighter. Tony had already been unconscious when she’d found them and the guy was still hitting him, so she felt she couldn’t be faulted for immediately leaping on him. But when they’d finally been separated, and she’d finally scrambled back to Tony’s side, she couldn’t revive him, so she’d taken him to the hospital.

And she’d told them everything. About the fighting ring, and the people there. About the guy who had jumped Tony over a grudge. About what she’d seen before she’d pulled the guy off of him, and how Tony had been unresponsive when she’d gotten back to him. Then when the hospital staff had called the police, she repeated everything again.

If there was still a fighting ring, she wouldn’t be allowed back, Carol thought, finally looking back up at the woman. “Yeah,” she said again, and sniffled quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” the woman asked, sitting beside her. She took Carol’s hand between her own gently. “The doctors are saying that he’s got a chance. But he wouldn’t have, if he’d taken any more abuse, or if he’d been left there to be found. You sought treatment for him. What’s happened up to this point is irrelevant because Tony has a chance now. Because of you.”

Carol swallowed thickly, then lifted her free hand to cover her face. “He shouldn’t have been there.”

“No,” the woman agreed, but there was still no judgment in her voice. “But Tony has been trying to find his way for a very long time. I’m just glad someone besides my James was there to keep an eye on him.”

Carol’s breath hitched, and she croaked out, “James?”

“My son has always had a soft spot for strays,” the woman explained, and smiled at her. “On the bright side, every stray he’s found has always had a heart of gold.”

“Oh,” Carol said, and swallowed thickly.

“Thank you,” the woman said again, giving her hand a squeeze. “Whatever else you take away from today, please just remember that you saved Tony’s life.”

Carol stared down at their hands and squeezed back, too helpless to come up with a response.

.-.-.-.

Carol made one phone call when she finally got home.

_ “Hello?” _ Maria said.

“Maria,” Carol choked out. “I’m in trouble and I need a place to stay.”

_ “Of course,” _ Maria answered immediately.  _ “Come home. Do you need money to get here? What do you need?” _

Carol let out a sob and curled up on her bed. “I just need you to stand by me as I figure this out.”

_ “Done,” _ Maria replied.  _ “Come home.” _

As soon as she hung up, Carol sent an email to her boss telling him she quit. Then she packed her bags, paid off the rest of her rent, and hopped on a plane for Louisiana.

.-.-.-.

Maria and Monica were like a balm on her soul. She’d been trying so hard to get ahead that she’d forgotten what she was trying to get ahead for —to help make sure Monica had a good life, and so that she could eventually have enough money to either move them up with her or that she could move down with them.

“What do you need?” Maria asked gently over coffee after they’d finally gotten Monica to bed.

“I… I don’t know,” Carol admitted, and then placed her head in her hands. “I don’t know.”

Maria took a long, slow sip of her coffee, thoughtful, then softly asked, “What do you  _ want? _ ”

Carol actually thought about it. What did she want? She’d been doing what she thought she needed for so long, she couldn’t remember. When she’d moved to New York… she’d really just wanted to prove herself. Now that she felt her life was spiraling out of control, she didn’t know.

“...I want to not be so angry,” she finally said, feeling helpless.

“So we’ll work on that,” Maria decided. “And then maybe you’ll figure out what you want after that.”

Carol lifted her head to look at her, frowning. “You think so?”

Maria smiled, tilting her head a little. “Carol. You’re incredibly driven. I’m pretty sure once we get this roadblock out of the way, you’ll know exactly what you want and exactly how to get to it. You always have.”

Carol continued looking at her for a moment, then couldn’t help but smile back, even if it was only a small thing.

.-.-.-.

A year later, Tony showed up at their door, looking grimly determined. “You left.”

Carol stared at him. She had not left a forwarding address. How had he found her? “I,” she began, and then her gaze softened. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. The wheelchair is just because I can’t stand very long yet,” Tony said mulishly. He waved back at the man who was holding the handles of his chair. “This is Steve. He’s my ex-boyfriend.”

“Please stop calling me that,” Steve said, and then held his hand out to her. “I’m his fiancé.”

Carol blinked at him for a moment, bewildered, then let out a bark of laughter, reaching out to shake his hand. “Ha! Oh my God, Tony.”

“Also, ma’am, I’m not trying to be rude, but could we come inside out of the heat?” Steve added. “It triggers his migraines and he just got over one.”

“Fuck!” Carol exclaimed, and hurried out to help lift the wheelchair up the steps.

“I can get up!” Tony whined, but also did not try to.

“No,” Steve said, and then, “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Steve,” Carol said. “If you call me ‘ma’am’ again, I’m gonna kick you in the balls.”

“Well I couldn’t  _ not _ call you ‘ma’am,’ my ma’s got a sixth sense for when I’m being impolite,” Steve scoffed, unconcerned. “And whatever she’d do to me is worse.”

Carol stared at him for a moment, skeptical, but Tony was wobbling his head back and forth in a nod, so she shrugged it off. Instead she crossed her arms, raising her eyebrows at them. “So? What brings you to my house? Especially considering I didn’t leave a forwarding address.”

“You said she invited us!” Steve exclaimed.

Tony wheeled himself a little closer to her, ignoring him. “You left,” he said again, and then held a box out to her. “You said I could give this to you if I wanted, and then you left. I had to come and give it to you.”

“Oh,” Carol breathed, suddenly remembering the discussion they’d had before everything went wrong, before everything changed. “Oh, Tony, I’m sorry.”

“I want you to have it,” Tony insisted. “It’s art.”

Carol reached out to touch his hand gently. “I know.”

“You were one of my only friends back then,” Tony added. “I want you to have it because you’re my friend.”

Carol smiled sadly. “Thanks, Tony.”

Tony stared up at her for a moment before his face crumpled. “Am I the one that made you leave? Did you leave because I was—because—”

“I left because you made me realize that I was going down a bad path,” Carol hurried to assure him, grabbing his hand. “Not because of something you did. I left because I was afraid if I didn’t leave, I’d never be able to. You helped me realize that I had other issues I needed to work on. I didn’t leave because of you, Tony. I left to get myself some help.”

Tony stared up at her, frowning, but seemed to find what he was looking for in her expression. “Rhodey was scared you might’ve gotten hurt, so I had to come find you and make sure you weren’t.”

Carol blinked at him. “Who the fuck is Rhodey.”

“Tony’s friend Jim,” Steve explained hastily when Tony just gasped, offended. “In the Air Force? His mom was the last one who actually saw you and she said you looked a little shell-shocked so they were never sure.”

“You call him Rhodey? That’s dumb,” Carol told Tony.

Tony gasped again, scowling at her. “He was my friend before he was your bone-buddy how dare you!”

“Bone-buddy?!” Carol asked, beside herself with glee. “Did you just—”

“Bone-buddies with feelings!” Tony hollered.

“With  _ feelings _ I’m—”

“Oh my God,” Steve sighed, covering his face with his hands.

.-.-.-.

Carol waited until after they’d left before she finally opened the box. She couldn’t help a soft gasp.

It was a relatively large concrete disc, decorated meticulously with red, blue, and yellow shards. She remembered, all at once, Tony quietly admitting that he’d started smashing dishware instead of stepping into the fighting ring, and putting the pieces back together into something new. He’d done a good job, she thought, fingers tracing over the yellow star. Much better than the 'I've been told it's art' he'd flippantly tried to pass it off as. It warmed her heart to know he’d seen it and thought of her.

She remembered, abruptly, that she’d repaid Tony’s kindness by slamming a door and breaking the picture frame he always looked at whenever he left to give him a boost before he stepped outside. Repaid Jim’s quiet, resigned care for both of them by fucking off the face of the earth after learning Tony would live through his injuries. Repaid both of them for helping her see she was killing herself slowly by cutting them out of her life.

It had hurt, to be told he could handle standing by Tony but not her. She realized now, though, that it had probably been stretching Jim thinner and thinner all along. He’d been right, after all. Carol hadn’t been getting better about it, like Tony; she’d been getting worse. Jim was in the Air Force, probably already stressed out about being deployed, and worrying about Tony getting himself killed while he was gone. It hadn’t been fair to make him worry about her as well, if she wasn’t going to take steps to get better like Tony had.

She understood why he’d told her to get out.

“Hey, Maria?” Carol asked softly, twisting the spatula in her hands.

“Flip the pancakes, Danvers,” Maria said. “Monica is just trying to make you feel better when she says she likes them dark brown.”

Carol flipped the pancakes obediently, wrinkling her nose at them when she saw how pale they were. “You remember that therapist you saw after… After?”

Maria turned to look at her sharply, considering, before her expression gentled and she offered, “After Frank was killed on duty?”

Carol tried not to squirm. “Yeah.”

“I could ask if he’s taking new patients,” Maria offered.

Carol swallowed thickly and nodded. “I’d. I’d appreciate that.”

Maria slung an arm around her shoulders and leaned in to press their heads together. “Hey. This is a good thing. We’ll work it out together.”

“Thanks,” Carol croaked.

“And you can tell me all about this bone-buddy you had, too,” Maria began.

Carol froze, stunned, then howled, “Oh my God how did you find out about that!”

“I had nanny cams put in for Monica’s safety when I worked late and never got around to taking them out when you got here,” Maria replied, unrepentant. “A bone-buddy with feelings? Was he cute?”

“I’m throwing myself into the sea,” Carol began.

“I won’t miss you,” Maria immediately deadpanned.

Monica came in to find them scuffling on the ground, laughing. “So are we having burnt pancakes again?” she asked sadly.

“Fuck! My pancakes!” Carol wailed.

Maria sat up, grinning. “We’re going out for dinner on Aunt Carol and we’re going to bully her into telling us all about her friends in New York.”

“Oh, the ones who got you the mosaic?” Monica asked, brightening. “I really like it. Do you think they’d make one for me?”

Carol opened her mouth to say no, Tony probably had a lot more on his plate now than he had when he’d first started. Then she closed it again. Tony had been very hurt that she hadn’t stuck around to accept it. Maybe he was still doing them. Maybe he wouldn’t mind parting with another one if she told him how adoringly Monica treated the one he’d given her, carefully dusting it during chores and putting it up where it could be seen best whenever they redecorated for holidays.

The worst he could do was say no, Carol reasoned, even as she said, “Kids who don’t appreciate brown pancakes don’t get gifts.”

“These aren’t pancakes! They’re hockey pucks!” Monica exclaimed, and Maria and Carol squawked when they realized the pancakes had indeed burnt to a crisp.

.-.-.-.

“Hi,” Jim said.

Carol stared at him for a moment, then let out a startled, “Hngh.”

Jim waited for her to say something else, but when she didn’t, he explained, “Tony’s neck-deep in wedding planning and stockholders’ meetings, so he sent me.” He shrugged, nodding down at the box he was holding and the envelope on top of it. “Also here’s your invitation to the wedding. He says you can bring your friends. He really wants you to come.”

“Oh,” Carol said. “Okay. Thanks. I appreciate that.” She rubbed the back of her head. “Sorry you had to come out all this way.”

“I had to go to Ellington Field,” Jim replied, shrugging. “Figured I could manage a stopover in New Orleans on my way home. Tony’s pestering me to bring him gumbo.”

“He did like it when Maria made it,” Carol mused. She stepped aside to let him into the house. “You want something to drink? Juice? Tea?”

Jim raised an eyebrow at her, amused. “You don’t strike me as the type to drink tea, Carol.”

“I mean, technically this is syrup pretending to be tea,” Carol said.

“Ew, sweet tea?” Jim asked, surprised. “I haven’t had that since my grandma insisted on making it when I was twelve. I thought my teeth were going to fall out. Fuck me up I’m feeling nostalgic all of a sudden.”

Carol poured him a glass of tea, and then opened the invitation while he sipped at it, making faces with every pull. “They’re seriously having their wedding on New Year’s Eve?” she asked, turning to frown at him.

“‘We’ll be starting the year off right as a newly married couple,’ blah blah blah, ‘it’s what he wants,’ blah blah—they’re so fucking gross, I hate them,” Jim complained. “They got a venue with a great view of the ball dropping and they’re going to save their marital kiss for the count down. And I hate that I’m gonna have to look at their stupid sappy faces for the entire night. God. How dare anyone be as in love as they are right in front of my face.”

Carol laughed a little. From the glimpses of their relationship she’d seen when they’d visited, they really were that disgustingly in love. Tony had even whispered about how Steve had saved him when he’d been recovering. He’d given Steve some (frankly disgusting) dewy-eyed, smitten looks. Carol had had one irrational thought of punching Steve in the face for not loving Tony as much as Tony loved him, but then she’d noticed that Steve gave Tony the same looks, just… differently.

Tony stared at Steve like he was his world from his wheelchair. Steve looked at Tony like he was his world whenever he had to do something for him, like holding his drink for him when his hands shook, or holding him so carefully when he helped him out of his wheelchair.

“It’s nice, though,” she said softly, wondering if anyone would ever look at her like that.

Jim looked at her, gaze soft and understanding. “Yeah,” he agreed. “It’s nice.”

.-.-.-.

“God you’re so fucking useless I hate you,” Maria said as Monica gleefully put her mosaic in her room.

“What? What?!” Carol exclaimed.

“He was waiting for you to say something about your feelings you’re such an oblivious asshole,” Maria continued. “No wonder you’re still single. Idiot.”

“TAKE THE CAMERAS DOWN!” Carol bellowed.

“No,” Maria said. “How else am I supposed to see what an emotionally constipated idiot you are.”

Monica stepped over their wrestling forms to grab the phone to order pizza for dinner. She got the feeling the ribbing wouldn’t be over until after suppertime.

.-.-.-.

It was a beautiful wedding. Tony still had to sit in his wheelchair more often than not, but he’d managed to walk down the aisle and stand during the ceremony, and his hands didn’t shake when he tried to eat or drink, and he didn’t stutter during his speech, and when he got tired halfway through his and Steve’s first dance and looked devastated about having to end it early, Steve had simply hefted him up into his arms and twirled him around the dance floor until Tony laughed.

“I hate them,” Carol said.

Maria spat her wine out.

“So gross,” Jim agreed. “Do you want to dance?”

Carol turned to look up at him, surprised. “Oh, uh? Sure.”

“Don’t be an idiot for one moment of your life please,” Maria murmured out of the side of her mouth.

Carol stuck her tongue out at her as she let Jim lead her out onto the dance floor.

“Your friend seems nice,” Jim said.

“She’s a menace,” Carol corrected.

Jim smiled a little. “Well, she sort of has to be, doesn’t she? She’s friends with  _ you _ .”

“I hope you trip and fall on your ass,” Carol said, rolling her eyes, but she was smiling, too.

Jim rolled his eyes as well, but then he looked back at her. “You look good, Carol. You’re actually still pretty without cut lips and black eyes.”

“Rude,” Carol said, and was surprised to find herself saying it without heat. Before, she would have clammed up, shut him out. Now she mostly just wanted to keep swaying back and forth with him. “Not sure a tux suits you,” she added, more as an afterthought.

“My mom thinks I look cool,” Jim deadpanned, and she had to laugh. He shook his head, smiling. “Nah, Steve’s former Army so I didn’t wanna show him up by looking better in a dress uniform than he does. It’s bad taste to show up the grooms.”

Carol looked him up and down slowly, considering, before she finally said, “I mean, I don’t think the dress uniform would suit you either. Look better in worn jeans and an MIT hoodie.”

Jim blinked at her, surprised, then laughed, cheeks flushing a little. “I’ll keep it in mind,” he said, shrugging.

Carol leaned in to lay her head on his shoulder, just enjoying the moment, then leaned back to look at him. “I thought about what you said,” she said quietly. “About growing up. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

“I mean, I’m sorry I was an asshole about it, too,” Jim admitted. “I was getting deployed, and Tony was still fighting so I was anxious about that, and then I was worried about you, and… I just couldn’t handle it. So I’m sorry for the way I said it.”

“I think I needed to hear it,” Carol admitted. “So thanks. And I’m sorry I broke the picture frame. I’ve felt shitty about it every day since it happened.”

Jim shrugged. “It’s fine. Tony made me a new one. He was actually really excited about it, because he’d wanted to do mosaic picture frames but hadn’t really wanted to stray from the garden stones. I guess our picture gave him the push for it.”

“Oh,” Carol said. So she’d felt guilty over something that hadn’t actually been a big deal, then. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that, especially since she’d worried over what they thought about her because of it.

“I told him a few of my buddies from the Air Force got rowdy during a football game and knocked it down,” Jim added quietly, as if sensing her thoughts. “So he had no idea you broke it. And I heard the door slam, so I know it wasn’t malicious. It’s not like I hadn’t knocked it off a few times while I was rushing out, either. It just happened to miss the rug when you did it. I’m sorry you felt so guilty, but it was just a picture, Carol.”

Carol couldn’t help the sob that escaped her, but she stubbornly bit any more of them back. It hadn’t just been a picture to her. It had been the embodiment of Tony’s strength and Jim’s conviction that he’d get better and she’d broken it in a fit of pique, unwilling to admit that she had a problem and that the coping mechanisms she had weren’t solving it.

And Jim just held her, as if he understood anything he said wouldn’t help, swaying them back and forth even as the songs changed to lively, upbeat things.

“Rhodey, move,” Tony said, making the bubble they were in burst, and Carol jerked upright again with a soft sniffle.

“Tony I can’t believe I’m saying this but I am seriously considering kicking your ass for ruining the moment,” Jim began.

Tony ignored him, instead turning to Carol and offering her a bouquet. “Here.”

“Wh-?” she began, bewildered, but took it anyway. “Thanks?”

Tony beamed up at her. “I wasn’t feeling up to throwing it anyway. Also Mama Rhodes said I should come over and make sure Rhodey asked you on a date.”

“Tony!” Jim squawked.

Tony turned to give him his best bitch-face. “Well you want to! You told me so!”

“Carol, please excuse me,” Jim said, and then reached for Tony’s neck.

“I will not apologize,” Tony wheezed.

Carol stared at the bouquet a moment longer, then turned back to Jim. “Hey,” she said. “You wanna get outta here? I know this bar that has  _ amazing _ burgers.”

Jim couldn’t help a frown, skeptically asking, “Really?”

Carol couldn’t blame him. They’d parted on some… difficult terms. And she’d been away trying to figure things out, so he hadn’t seen her growth. Maria was even managing to convince her to try flying again, going into business with a Dr. Lawson they’d both worked with previously before Carol had gone to New York. She was still angry sometimes, but… she was learning to deal with it. In a healthy way this time.

So she nodded and smiled at him, affirming with a soft, “Yeah, really.”

“Okay,” Jim said, and began to smile back.

“Rhodey you’re still strangling me,” Tony wheezed.

“Fuck!” Jim exclaimed, and pulled Tony up into a hug. “Man, I’m sorry—”

Tony patted his back, replying, “It’s okay. You need to start dating fast anyway, since Carol’s the next to get married.”

“What,” Jim and Carol said, and then she looked back down at the bouquet he’d handed to her. Then she squawked and threw it away from her like a football.

_ It hit Mrs. Rhodes in the head as she was approaching them. _

“Oh my God,” Carol breathed.

“Anyway we’ll wire you for money once we figure out what country we’re fleeing to goodbye forever,” Jim told Tony hastily as he grabbed Carol’s hand and dragged her from the event hall.

“Is your mother going to hunt me down and kill me?” Carol couldn’t help but ask.

  
Jim said nothing, looking like he perhaps wasn’t entirely sure.

“Well can we at least get the burgers before we flee the country?” Carol asked.

Jim nodded. “Sure, but it’s on you because you hit my mama in the face with a bouquet.”

“I yeeted a bouquet at your mother,” Carol moaned. “And then left my best friend and her daughter there fuck!”

“Carol. Focus,” Jim ordered. “You hit my mama.  _ With a bouquet. _ ”

“Maria’s never going to let me live this down,” Carol sighed. “Damn it.”

.-.-.-.

As it turned out, Mrs. Rhodes was more upset about Jim dropping Tony on his ass so he could flee than she was about having a bouquet thrown at her head.

_ “Tony said it meant I got to keep the flowers,” _ she explained, and then scowled at him sternly.  _ “But  _ ** _you_ ** _ ! You just dropped him, knowing he’s still easily fatigued!” _

“So you’re not gonna say anything about me accidentally-on-purpose strangling him beforehand,” Jim said, skeptical.

_ “Well, honey, it’s Tony,” _ Mrs. Rhodes said, rolling her eyes.  _ “He gave us permission to thump him when he’s being too much.” _

Carol frowned over her burger. “Seriously?”

“It's a thing—He just—You get used to it,” Jim explained, shrugging, then turned back to his phone. “I’ll apologize to him after the honeymoon.”

_ “That’s a good idea. By the way, Carol, sweetie, your friend says to tell you that she and Monica are going to stay and watch the ball drop so if you want to go back to James’s apartment with him—” _

“Mama!” Jim gasped, affronted.

Mrs. Rhodes looked supremely unimpressed.  _ “Jim, Tony got married before you. At this rate he’s going to give me grandchildren first, too. Get a move on and take that girl on a proper date!” _

“We’re on a proper date,” Carol offered, holding up her burger to the camera.

Mrs. Rhodes looked pleased by this. _“Good. Oh, and dear? You look so much lighter than the last time I saw you. I’m glad you’re doing better.”_

“Oh,” Carol said, surprised. She looked down at the table for a moment, feeling awkward, then decided to take it as the compliment it was intended as. “Thanks, Mrs. Rhodes.”

_“All of Jim’s friends call me Mama Rhodes, dear,”_ Mrs. Rhodes replied airily, and then added, _“Well, I’ll let you get back to your date!”_ and hung up.

Jim grimaced. “Sorry about that. Mama just wants me to hurry up and settle down.”

“Well, I mean, Tony  _ did _ get married before you,” Carol began, and laughed when he attempted to kick her under the table.

Jim smiled at her, eyes softening. “You really do look lighter, Carol. Whatever you’re doing, it agrees with you.”

Carol smiled back, catching his foot between both of hers. “Well, I couldn’t have done it without the push you gave me, so. Thank you. For the compliment and the push.”

Jim didn’t struggle, just let his foot hang between hers, even though it must have been uncomfortable with how far they were sitting from each other. She didn’t let it go, either. She wondered if they were looking at each other the way Steve had looked and Tony, or the way Tony had looked at Steve. On one hand she hoped they were, but on the other hoped they didn’t.

They had plenty of time to find that, she decided, and found herself growing excited to get to know Jim without the inherent distrust and anger she’d had before. She thought that Jim might be excited about that too.


	29. Steve/Tony/Thor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can’t say I knew where I was going with this. Can’t say I’m sorry about it, either.

Time Travel AU

“Oh, this probably isn’t good,” Thor murmured.

“Isn’t good?” Steve screeched, smacking him with the newspaper he’d found that said it was the seventies. “_Isn’t good?!_ First I’m thrown seventy years into the future and now I’m back in the past! Are we stuck here?! I don’t want to do this again!”

“We’ll be fine,” Thor said hastily. “This isn’t permanent.”

Steve got up in his face, growling, “For the record, Loki is no longer allowed to give any of us gifts. No birthday gifts. No Yule gifts. No gifts for other holidays. And if he’s got any other wedding gifts up his sleeve, I’m going to murder him.”

“I understand,” Thor said, frowning, as he looked around again. “But rest assured, this is not Loki’s usual mischief. We’re not stuck here at his leisure, and he would never cast such a spell without Anthony’s consent.”

Steve jerked as if he’d suddenly realized that Tony wasn’t there. “Oh God. It’s our wedding night and Tony’s alone.”

“No, he’s… here,” Thor explained after a moment, then tilted his head, grimacing, when Steve whipped around to glare at him. “This magic is not easily done, Steven. There are rules that even tricksters like Loki must follow. Anthony is here, but he is here in a different time. To make him exist outside of that time could cause irreversible damage to his psyche.”

“Irreversible damage?!” Steve screeched.

Thor grabbed his chin and gripped it tightly, giving him the smallest shake to indicate that he quickly shut the fuck up. “Steven,” he said softly, sternly. “This is not something that Loki would take upon himself. This is something Anthony must have asked for.”

Steve frowned, confused. “But why would Tony do that?” Tony had made no secret of hating magic, after all. It made no sense that he’d ask for this, especially from _Loki_, of all people.

“Probably for the same reasons why he flinches when we move too fast, or winds up tightly when we grow too loud, and when we ask what we can do keep it from happening, to try to be better, he says he doesn’t know,” Thor surmised grimly.

Steve stared up at him, uncomprehending. His brows furrowed together as he considered what it might mean. Then his face crumpled, and he whispered, “Oh my God, no.”

“Oh my God!” Howard shouted. “No! Tony, look what you’ve done!”

Tony came scampering out of a door, looking terrified. He was a child, small and wide-eyed and fragile. He couldn’t have been more then six years old. A child so young shouldn’t look so scared, especially because of his father.

Steve automatically reached for him, but Thor grabbed him and pulled him back. “You wouldn’t be able to touch him, Steven,” he murmured, solemn, when Steve turned a betrayed glare on him. “And I believe that it would have hurt you to reach out to comfort him and have your hand pass through him.”

“What has he done,” Steve moaned, dismayed, as Howard came storming out of the room that the minuscule Tony had just fled. “This isn’t how I wanted to learn. I wanted him to _tell me_, not—not show us like this!”

Thor winced as he heard Tony cry out in fear just before it was cut off by the sound of a loud smack. “How would he have found words for this?” he asked sadly.

Steve opened his mouth, then closed it again, swallowing thickly. As much as it hurt, it was true—Tony talked a lot, about a myriad of things, but never about anything like this. Never about anything that could leave him vulnerable, that could be thrown back in his face. Sometimes he said something that made them take a double take, but it was there and gone so fast that they couldn’t in good conscience try and bring it up again.

How, exactly, was Tony supposed to find words to explain that his father beat him as a child?

Suddenly they saw a tall, slender man with graying hair striding quickly down the hall, wearing a butler’s coat, back straight and head held high. They couldn’t help but follow him, towed in the wake of how determined he managed to look while still appearing unflappably blasé about hearing a child crying.

They followed the man through the door Tony had fled past just in time to hear him say, “Sir,” and very firmly grab Howard’s arm to keep him from hitting Tony again. He turned Howard around, took a moment to straighten Howard’s jacket—then gave him a right hook so spectacular that Howard was out cold before he even hit the ground.

Then the man turned, demeanor just as calm as it had always been, and urged Tony into his arms with a gentle, “Come along, Master Anthony.”

“I didn’t mean to, Jarvis,” Tony sobbed, curling his arms around the man’s neck, and hid his face in his shoulder. “I was just tryin’a help!”

“I know,” the man, the human Jarvis, apparently, soothed, running a hand over his shoulders. “I know you were. Let’s get you some ice, now.”

Tony sniffled. “And ice-cream?” When Jarvis only hummed, he added, “For my fat lip?”

Jarvis allowed the smallest, saddest smile to cross his face. “And some ice-cream for your fat lip.”

Thor heard a thump and turned, startled to find that Steve had slumped down onto his hands and knees. “Steven!”

“He was a _baby_,” Steve whispered.

Thor knelt down to put an arm around him, frowning, but could not fault Steve for his reaction. Tony spoke rarely about his father, but when he did, it was mostly in terms of their relationship when he died, when Tony was a teenager. To know that their relationship had _never_ been good, that Howard had beaten him as a small child… How was he even supposed to begin to explain that when he couldn’t even explain how their relationship had been when he was older?

“Is this how it’s going to be?” Steve asked suddenly, voice serious.

Thor frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Is this just going to be every bad moment that happened to Tony?” Steve extrapolated, and then added, “I may vomit.”

“Perhaps this was the extent of the spell,” Thor suggested hopefully, but even he didn't believe it.

The scene around them rippled and shimmered, and the stark decorations of the mansion Tony had lived in during his childhood faded. In its place were not the opulent rooms that Frigga had given them to stay in, though, nor the familiar penthouse in New York. Instead it was a dark room illuminated by strobing lights, bodies gyrating against each other to the beat of the music thumping from a set of speakers that had seen better days.

“I’m definitely gonna vomit,” Steve lamented, covering his ears.

“I suppose Loki wouldn’t have known to lower the volume for your ears,” Thor said, frowning, as he looked around. “Everyone here is so tiny.”

“Everyone here is like… twenty,” Steve replied. “And all humans are small compared to you. You’ve said.”

Thor spotted an especially tiny person and frowned. “That looks like an actual child.”

Steve plugged his ears and squinted through the strobing lights to try and see what he was seeing. Thor stepped closer and cupped his hands over Steve’s ears so he could focus on covering his eyes—he was much more sensitive to lights and sounds than even Thor was. He had the feeling he should be grateful that they didn’t have to suffer through olfactory memories as well.

“That _is_ a child,” Steve bellowed, and surged forward. “Tony!”

“Tony?!” Thor sputtered, and remembered abruptly that Tony had always said he’d been sent to college years early.

Which meant that the person pinning him in the corner was at least a few years older than he was, and certainly old enough to know that they should not be kissing a child, _and should definitely not be kissing him while said child was trying to push them away_.

“Steven, you can’t stop him,” Thor exclaimed, even though he was filled with the same righteous fury, the same rage. Clawing at Tony’s attacker was useless and would only frustrate him more. He wrapped an arm around Steve’s waist and hauled him back.

“I don’t want to see this!” Steve shouted, and it was hard to tell if the tears in his eyes were from anger, fear, or disgust. “I don’t want to see this! I want to leave!”

Thor held him tight. “I’m sorry, Steven.”

The person suddenly jerked back from Tony, looking angry and confused, blood dripping down his chin. Tony must have bitten him, the only thing he could do when he was pinned as he was. The man stepped back, but only far enough that he could take a swing, hitting Tony so hard that he stumbled to the ground with it.

Then there was a loud, angry, “Hey!” and another man came and tackled the first to the ground.

Tony took it for the escape that it was, struggling to his feet and stumbling out of the house. Steve and Thor followed him, helpless, and stepping outside was like being hit with cold water, the music quieting to a dull thump, the area lit only by a full moon. Tony fell to his knees, panting, a few whimpers escaping between breaths.

The second man stumbled out of the house as well, and Steve squared up even though he knew his fists would fly through him. Then he sagged. “Oh my God. Colonel Rhodes.”

Except he was very much not a colonel now, wiry and lean and young and _angry_. James staggered down the steps and over to Tony, pawing at his shoulders. “Hey, man, you oka—hey, hey, I’m not gonna hurt you!” he added when Tony whimpered and cringed away from him. He was not deterred, carefully fixing his hands around Tony’s thin shoulders and helping him to his feet. “It’s okay! I’m just gonna take you home, okay? I’m not gonna—”

Tony bent over and puked, emptying what looked like the entirety of his stomach contents directly onto James’s shoes. It appeared to be alcohol and bile and nothing else.

“…I didn’t like these shoes anyway,” James declared, toed his shoes off then and there, and then hooked Tony’s arm over his shoulders. “Come on, man. Do you remember where you live?”

“Blurgh,” Tony said.

“Alright, let’s go get you some greasy food and sober you up then,” James said, and they began hobbling away.

Not fast enough that Steve and Thor could miss the soft, wondering way Tony looked up at him, as if he couldn’t believe how kindly he was being treated even as it happened.

“I want to go home and bake Tony three cakes,” Steve sniffled.

Thor nodded sympathetically, then frowned and looked down at him in confusion. “What?”

“He yells at me for trying to make him fat if I bake four of them,” Steve explained.

“No, not that,” Thor began, because he really wanted to know why he couldn’t start with just one cake and go from there, but then the scene was rippling again, and he pulled Steve close, tucking his face to his chest under his chin, because Steve still looked a little green from the strobe lights and music.

It was the penthouse.

No, not their penthouse, they realized. It was just as sleek and minimalist as the one in New York, but the layout was different. There was a view of an ocean outside.

“Malibu,” Steve began, wonderingly.

They’d never been here. Tony had been—things were—Thor had gone—well. The Malibu house was gone, and Tony was uninterested in rebuilding it, because ‘I proved I could build it on the edge of a cliff already. You can’t build a house on a cliff out of spite _twice_.’

Thor wished he’d never seen it, because he didn’t recognize the man standing over Tony where he lied, motionless, on the couch, but with how wide and scared his eyes were, Tony did.

“When I ordered the hit on you, I was worried that I was killing the golden goose,” the man was saying, and his big hand fell on Tony’s chest, fingers curling around the arc reactor. “But, you see, it was just fate that you survived it, leaving one last golden egg to give.”

“No,” Steve said, and lurched, and Thor moved to stop him, but instead of running to try and stop it from happening, Steve just sank to the ground. He really did look like he was going to throw up like he’d been promising.

Tony’s lips twitched, but it was clear he couldn’t move, eyes growing wet. It was impossible to tell if it was because of the distress his body was going through or from the betrayal he was obviously feeling as the man twisted the reactor free of its housing.

“You really think that just because you have an idea, it belongs to you?” the man asked, looking amused and hideously jealous all at once as he pulled the arc reactor from Tony’s chest. “Your father, he helped give us the atomic bomb. Now, what kind of world would it be today if he was as selfish as you?”

Thor had seen how Howard had treated his son, and he could frankly say the world was a better place because Tony was not like him. He couldn’t help but rush to approach Tony as the man turned and left, as the color left Tony’s skin and his fingers twitched uselessly against the couch. “Anthony, you’ve hidden so much hurt from us,” he moaned, aching at the idea of Tony keeping this to himself, the betrayal and the pain and the anger.

Steve came up behind him, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Let us help you, Tony. Let us in.”

Tony’s eyes twitched back and forth, searching, scared. He couldn’t hear them. They hadn’t been there when he needed them. Hadn’t been there when he needed _anyone_ in his corner. No wonder he never reached out for help, when every time he extended his hand, there was no one to meet him halfway.

The scene began to ripple again.

“I can’t do this,” Steve sobbed. “I can’t watch another one of these moments, Thor! I can’t watch him suffer, knowing I can’t help him!”

Thor nodded grimly. He knew enough about Tony now to realize why he reacted the ways he did, and also knew enough now that Tony would continue to show them every horrible thing that happened to him, because he wanted them to understand, not knowing that he was allowed to keep some things private, too. Because Tony wasn’t raised to have privacy, or secrets, or understanding of companionship—he thought they deserved to know nothing or everything, with no in-between, regardless of how much it would hurt him _or_ them.

So Thor lifted his hand and called Mjolnir, because he knew the rush of power would tell Loki that enough was enough, and he should end the spell immediately.

.-.-.-.

“I didn’t want to do it,” Loki said defensively as soon as Thor came to his room. He looked as composed and haughty as ever, except for the way he crossed his arms looked more like he was shielding himself than trying to appear uncaring. “My gift was going to be one of the toys Anthony was dying to tear apart. This wasn’t my idea.”

Thor sighed tiredly. “I know.”

“And Captain America would have gotten—huh?” Loki asked, surprised. He’d obviously been expecting more of a scolding, or to have accusations thrown in his face, not having Thor just… concede. He narrowed his eyes skeptically. “You know?”

Thor approached the bed where Tony was lying, carefully tucked in with a warm cloth that smelled of lavender over his eyes. “Thank you for taking care of him. I’m sure it wasn’t something you were interested in.” He peeled the blankets back and picked Tony up gently, pulling his head so it rested against his shoulder. “I’ll make sure someone is sent up to take care of your bedding.”

Loki stomped after him, scowling. “Hold on! I expected you to come in here shouting like a brute like you always do! What is the meaning of this? Are you plotting revenge?” He glared at Thor and poked his shoulder with each word for emphasis. “_I told you I didn’t want to do this_.”

“And _I know_,” Thor replied, perhaps a bit more impatiently than he should have. “Not to remind you of this obviously painful subject, but I know how much this sort of magic takes it out of you, and I _also_ know that Mother would have forbid you from doing it if she’d known. I know you only did it because Anthony asked you to.”

“Oh,” Loki said, for lack of anything else.

Thor sighed again. “I have no idea what Anthony said to convince you it was a good idea. Knowing him, he used his entire arsenal of tactics. I’m not angry that you did this for Anthony. I’m angry that he thought we deserved to know whether he wanted us to or not. There were things—” He took a deep breath, then let it back out slowly. “…I would have rather heard it from him than seen them. I’m certain you understand.”

Loki fidgeted, then straightened his back, as if to scoff at the idea that he would ever fidget over anything in front of Thor. “Of course. I, of all people, understand secrets and wanting to keep them to myself.”

Thor didn’t rise to the bait, instead turning and nudging Loki in the shoulder in solidarity. “I know that, too.”

Loki stared up at him in surprise, then slowly took a step back, appearing thoughtful. “…Steven and Anthony really _have_ been good for you, haven’t they?”

“Yes,” Thor said without hesitation, because they had.

He’d been able to bond with Steve because of their shared lack of culture, learning about Midgard and humans in the twentieth century together. He’d been able to bond with Tony over science, of wanting to be better than who they’d been. Steve tempered his sharp edges, and Tony’s frenetic energy was infectious. Steve and Tony showed two different sides of humanity, both its good and bad parts, and Thor loved them for it.

And he loved Tony even more for wanting them to see his broken pieces, no matter how vulnerable it would make him.

“You’re a really good brother, you know that?” Thor asked, giving Loki a crooked smile. “Even when you’re an asshole.”

Loki gaped at him. “Wha—you—I—why a—How dare you,” he gasped, offended to his core. “I have never been a good brother to you and I’ll kill you if you ever accuse me of it again. We’re not brothers. I stabbed you. I will _continue_ to stab you, just to make this clear!”

“Okay,” Thor said, amused.

“I take back anything I ever said about Steven and Anthony being good for you and I rue the day you were banished to Midgard and started this whole mess!” Loki shouted after him as he left. “I hate you _and_ your lovers and I hope you all fall off the bridge going home!”

Thor chuckled to himself and pressed a kiss to Tony’s brow as he carried him back to his own room. He should tell Tony that Loki thought chocolate fountains weren’t real. Then they’d both _really_ have something to yell about.

.-.-.-.

Steve jerked awake as soon as he heard Thor open the door and fell off the window seat he’d been sitting on with a squawk. “Ow! What the—oh! Gimme,” he ordered, making grabby hands.

“I want to put him on the bed,” Thor said, smiling in amusement.

Steve scrambled off the floor and onto the bed, then continued to make grabby hands at him impatiently. “Gimme.”

“Anthony is a person,” Thor replied. “You shouldn’t ‘gimme’ a person.”

“Gimme,” Steve ordered again, unrepentant, and then beamed at him when Thor obediently set Tony on his lap.

Thor stroked the back of his hand against Tony’s cheek gently before stepping away so he could sit on the edge of the bed. “Be careful. He didn’t just see the same things we did—he relived each of the memories. For him, it felt like he was right back when it happened.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Steve sighed, frowning, and cupped Tony’s cheek gently. “I’m so sorry that I made you think you needed to do this for us.”

“I think that he doesn’t understand that just because we are open about our traumas, it doesn’t mean _he_ has to be,” Thor mused.

Steve lifted his head to give Thor a very unimpressed frown. “Because I’m _so_ open about my own trauma.”

Thor tilted his head, conceding that Steve actually wasn’t that open at all. “You don’t speak of it, but it’s in every action you make. Things that remind you of your previous life hurt you, and you swallow it down, but we can see it in the moment before you manage to hide it. It’s so different from Anthony’s hurt. His reactions could be explained away as so many things—people could say he’s being flippant, or sarcastic, or rude, and with the persona he puts on, he can easily brush it off as true. In fact, we fell for it ourselves when we reasoned that Tony flinched away from us when we got upset because we are so much bigger and stronger. But his memories told us that that isn’t so. The people who should have kept him safe, they hurt him terribly instead. It isn’t his fault that he’s unconsciously ready for us to turn on him, too.”

“I wish I could go back and punch Howard in the face like… so many times,” Steve said angrily, staring down at Tony’s face, remembering when it was round with baby fat and he’d asked a family butler for ice-cream for the fat lip he’d received from his own father. “The asshole spent all that time looking for me, the least he could have done was fucking find me so I could have protected Tony.” He stroked his thumb over Tony’s lower lip, biting his tongue to swallow back more vitriol. He was sure Thor understood.

“It does seem unfair that Anthony should suffer so much in his life,” Thor agreed, reaching out to catch Steve’s hand and pull it away from Tony’s face. “Let him sleep, Steven.”

Steve frowned at their linked hands, then looked up at Thor sadly, looking like the sad puppy Tony always accused him of being. “Can’t I hold him?”

“Get under the covers,” Thor ordered, amused, and gently took Tony back into his arms so Steve could squirm under the blankets. He took the time while Steve was doing that to carefully press a kiss to Tony’s forehead. “We’re going to have a long talk tomorrow, Anthony,” he murmured into Tony’s ear. “And I’m giving you no choice but to sit and listen. Even if it means I need to get Steven to hold you down.”

“And you won’t like the way I’ll hold you down then,” Steve added, trying to joke, but his voice cracked at the very end. He trailed his fingers down Tony’s cheek to his neck, then pressed their foreheads together with a soft sound that could have been a sob, if he’d only allow it to be. “I had to see those things happen to you, completely helpless to stop them, and I can’t even be mad at you about it when your intentions were so good.”

“You can be a little mad,” Thor reasoned, helping Steve to get Tony under the blankets comfortably. “I’m definitely mad.”

Steve stroked his thumb over Tony’s cheekbone softly, remembering the way Tony had looked up at Jarvis as he'd picked him up, and been promised some ice-cream; and at Colonel Rhodes after he’d been assaulted, after he’d puked all over his shoes and Colonel Rhodes had simply stepped out of them and led him to a diner. That was the expression of someone who was surprised to be treated kindly. And sometimes when he or Thor went out of their way to do something nice—bring him flowers, or take him out somewhere he’d mentioned in passing, or rub his feet after a board meeting—he still got that same surprised, wondering expression. He could understand why Tony had done this, even if he didn’t agree with it.

Even if he’d probably be having nightmares over how many different ways Tony could have shown him he’d been hurt, had it not been for Thor putting an end to it.

“How long will he sleep?” Steve asked quietly, pulling Tony so he was tucked against his chest.

“It’s hard to say, considering I only have my fellow Asgardians as a point of reference,” Thor mused. “Mother would know better, but I’m loathe to get Loki into any trouble, considering I’m almost entirely certain that he absolutely did not want to do this, and Tony convinced him to do it against his better judgment. Perhaps fourteen hours. No longer than sixteen, for certain. Anything longer than that, and I’ll have to go to Mother.”

Steve frowned, worried about how much it had taken out of Tony, but he trusted that Thor knew what he was talking about. “Stay?” he asked, instead of insulting him by asking ‘are you sure?’

“Alas,” Thor said regretfully, carding his fingers through Steve’s hair. “As much as Tony teases us about tradition, my parents would be very put out if I didn’t follow this one. Unfortunately, I cannot share chambers with my brides until after the wedding.”

“Oh, ugh,” Steve said immediately, glaring at him. “Don’t call me that.”

Thor chuckled as he finally stood. “It’s not a gendered term here. As I am to be king, I will be the groom. As Loki is technically a prince, even if he decided to take on a feminine form, he would also be considered a groom. It’s a term for royalty, not gender.”

“Well I just want you to know not to be upset if I punch you for calling me that when you know I don’t like it. I hate it. If anything, call me your future husband,” Steve told him firmly. “Tony likes it. Call _him_ that.” He looked down at Tony, frowning. “At least I think he does. Sometimes he gets huffy as a joke and sometimes it’s real and I’m not very good at figuring out which is which.”

“He likes it,” Thor assured him.

Steve narrowed his eyes at him. “Oh? And how are you so sure?”

Thor smirked back at him. “Just because we haven’t been sharing a room, it doesn’t mean I’ve been celibate, Steven.”

Steve gasped in affront, pulling Tony closer. “What the fuck?! When? We were together the entire—”

“Oh, Tony came prancing out of his bridal fitting a few minutes early and tried to tell me how exquisite he looks,” Thor explained smugly. “Of course, I’m not supposed to know what he looks like, so I had to quiet him somehow, didn’t I?”

“I was getting poked with needles and you guys got to fuck?! That’s so unfair!” Steve grumbled, hiding his pout in Tony’s hair.

Thor laughed. “Maybe if you had pestered the seamstresses and tailors as much as Anthony had, they would have kicked you out sooner as well.”

“I can’t help it if my opinion on dress clothes is just ‘they suck,’” Steve mumbled petulantly. “Or that Tony has a big mouth.”

“Well, on the bright side, at least you’ll know for next time that he gasps and does this adorable little shiver whenever you call him ‘my bride,’” Thor retorted.

Steve glared at him. “More like I’m gonna milk this ‘Midgardian values’ thing and cuddle Tony all night while _you_ have to go sleep alone.”

Thor couldn’t help his hand flying to his chest in offense. “That’s a low blow, Steven. You _know_ I miss having you two in my bed.”

Steve stuck his tongue out at him, unrepentant, and snuggled down deeper under the covers smugly.

“I’ll remember this the next time you try and make the argument that you are the more mature out of the two of you,” Thor said, reluctantly amused.

“Leave me alone. I’m a senior citizen,” Steve replied, before he and Tony disappeared under the blankets.

Thor smiled, shaking his head. “Goodnight, Steven. Take care of Anthony.”

“O’ course,” the lump of blankets answered immediately. “Goodnight, Thor.”

Thor gave them a nod before turning to leave, pausing in the doorway to peer at them over his shoulder. Dimly, he was aware that Steve was whispering something to Tony, but he was polite enough that he didn’t listen in—it was probably incredibly personal, especially after what they’d seen. And it was probably doubly private, considering Tony wasn’t awake to hear it.

Instead he murmured another soft ‘goodnight’ and shut the door behind him. He didn’t know why he was surprised to find his mother there, apparently waiting for him.

Frigga held up her hand when he opened his mouth and waited for him to close it again before she spoke. “I know what happened already, so don’t even try and deny it.”

“Alright. I won’t,” Thor replied with a flippant shrug.

Frigga gave him a look that was part reproach, but was also part amusement, too. “Your brother was very foolish to do that.”

Thor tilted his head to concede the fact. “That’s true,” he admitted. “But I also know that if Loki had finally convinced Tony that it was unsafe for him to do it, he would have gone straight to you. And he’s so tenacious and stubborn, he might have gotten you to do it, too.”

“Is that so?” Frigga asked, raising an eyebrow. The corner of her lips tipping up was the only indication that she wasn’t really as mad as she probably should have been, considering the damage Loki could have done to both he and Tony. “You really think that tiny Midgardian could have gotten me to do something I find absolutely gauche? I’d also say dangerous, but I would have actually known what I was doing.”

“I think so,” Thor said after some serious thought. “Anthony is… he is very observant. I imagine he’s already got everyone pegged for exactly who they are, even having only spent maybe a few minutes of his time with them. I hesitate to call him conniving, because of its negative connotations, but I’ve truly never seen someone twist someone else to their will as easily and seamlessly as he has. In all honestly… we are lucky that he has chosen to use his skills to make other people happy, instead of his own selfish gains.”

“A clever child,” Frigga murmured thoughtfully. “So he will be the one you seek for council when you take the throne. And Steven?”

“He tempers Anthony’s enthusiasm without putting a damper on it completely,” Thor explained, amused. “If Anthony had his way, he’d be running the show, because he believes he knows best. Steven is the one who makes him take a step back and remember that we also have relevant experience sometimes.”

Frigga smiled. “And you cannot manage that yourself?”

“He’s small,” Thor complained immediately, and Frigga laughed. “So tiny and adorable. He looks up at me with those eyes of his and I just let him run roughshod all over me. I am almost certain there’s something ethereal about him, because a single mortal should not have this much power over me.”

“Steven pouted at you and you let him have the last of the streusel even though you love streusel,” Frigga pointed out between laughs.

Thor threw his head back and sighed loudly. “Two of them, Mother! They have me wrapped around their fingers and the moment they become aware of it, I fear for my sanity. I can only hope that, like you, they will eventually realize that sometimes I need to believe that something was my decision.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, you oaf,” Frigga teased. “Loki will feel you’re infringing upon his domain.”

“I’m going to bed,” Thor declared, because if his mother was going to tease him, he would not allow it. Not tonight. It had been a very long day, and it had been punctuated with painful realizations about his future husband, and he wanted time to ruminate on them.

Frigga seemed to realize this, and her eyes softened. “Alright. Alright, Thor. I’ll have some tea sent up for Tony tomorrow morning to help him regain his strength. As the spell was cut short, his recovery should not be nearly as long or painful as it would be.”

“Loki didn’t want to do it,” Thor couldn’t help but add, because he’d seen it in Loki’s eyes, the residual terror and discomfort.

“I know,” Frigga sighed, shoulders falling. “And as you’re certain that Anthony would have just come to me instead, I won’t scold him for it this once. But you must make sure Anthony is aware of how generous I am being. Under no circumstances is this allowed to happen again.”

“Of course, Mother,” Thor said. He’d be certain Tony understood he couldn’t ask for it again, even if he didn’t agree with the reasoning. “Goodnight, Mother.”

Frigga watched him turn and begin down the hallway before she sighed and crossed her arms. “Thor.”

Thor turned to look at her, concerned, but she was smiling, and as he watched, she rolled her eyes and nodded at the door to Steve and Tony’s guest room. “Really?”

“If the haunted way Loki looked at me is any indication, your bri—excuse me,” she added, rolling her eyes. “Your ‘future husbands.’ They’ve had a very… very hard day today. So if you want to watch over them for just one night… I won’t say anything about it.”

Thor approached her in three quick strides to pull her into a hug. “Thank you, Mother,” he whispered into her ear sincerely.

Frigga patted his back, endlessly fond. “Of course, dear.” She watched him return to the door and added, “_Just_ watch over them, of course.”

Thor turned to raise his eyebrows and lie, “Of course,” because he had no intention of just pulling up a chair and literally watching over them. He was going to crawl under the blankets and pull them both into his arms, press gentle kisses to their heads and faces before he leaned back to watch them sleep. And he was certain his mother knew it anyway.

“Just don’t be there when tea I’m sending up arrives,” Frigga said, rolling her eyes in amusement, and Thor flashed her a bright smile before ducking through the door and closing it behind himself quietly.


	30. James Rhodes/Natasha Romanov

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh. So. The month doesn’t have the right amount of days. So technically there’s two dealer’s choices to be made.

Angel/Demon AU

“Tony,” Jim said seriously. “I’m in love.”

Tony stared at him for a moment, speechless, before pointing out, “We’re in Hell.”

“So?” Jim asked, defensive. “You got something against me being attracted to a demon?”

“We’re only here because Pepper threatened to skin me alive if we didn’t get someone to sign this paperwork,” Tony said slowly. “We’re not here on holiday. Our passes are only good for the day. How are you possibly going to woo a demon in—” He checked his pocket watch, then looked back up at him, frowning. “Three hours? We still haven’t gotten the signature we need. And I thought the bureaucrats up top were pedantic.”

Jim rolled his eyes. “Okay, first of all, I’m pretty sure the reason Coulson didn’t sign the papers was because you annoyed him literally the minute after you met him. Secondly, three hours is plenty of time to woo a demon.”

“We still need to get this signature,” Tony began.

Jim grabbed the end of his wing to pull him to a stop. “Wrong again, asshole. _You_ need to get that signature. _I’m_ free to do anything I want for the next three hours.”

Tony’s eyes went big and panicked. “Rhodey you know I’ll never get this signature without you. Demons hate me. They just look at me and are filled with disgust. No one’s going to take a minute of their time to get over that to sign these for me! I can’t do this on my own! There isn’t a single demon who will help me!”

“To be fair, you do know _one_ demon who will help you,” Jim pointed out, and then, before Tony could belt out his signature whine and puppy eyes, he added, “Anyway, I heard her mention heading to a bar and maybe she’ll let me buy her a glass of brimstone ale.”

“You don’t even like brimstone ale!” Tony whined as he walked away.

“Call Barnes, Tony,” Jim ordered without turning, because he knew if he saw Tony’s actual distress, he’d fold like a cheap suit. “Tell him you need a signature and nothing else and _maybe_ he’ll help you out.”

“Why would he help me after I accidentally humiliated him?!” Tony wailed just before he turned the corner, leaving him behind.

To be fair, if Barnes didn’t want to help, that was understandable. Not everyone would want to put being called a pervert in front of their coworkers behind them. Jim privately thought Tony’s outrage had been valid at the time, but he could also see where Barnes had been coming from, too. Still, Tony was centuries old now. He could handle swallowing his pride (and embarrassment) to get a simple signature.

Jim had a date.

.-.-.-.

“Aren’t you a little far from home, feathers?” the demon he sidled up to asked, amused.

Jim might have been deterred if she hadn’t also reached out to grab the glass of brimstone ale he’d brought over to her. “I’ve got a pass,” he assured her.

She raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth tilting up just so, and it was an incredibly attractive expression on her. “Oh? And what if I prefer bad boys? Someone who isn’t afraid to break the rules?”

Jim considered this, then said, “I mean, I did eavesdrop on you telling someone which bar you were going to. Is that duplicitous enough for you?”

She picked the pickled onion out of her drink and popped it into her mouth, sucking on it thoughtfully. “Kind of a creepy thing to do, isn’t it?”

“…Yeah,” Jim said, suddenly feeling a lot more sorry for Tony when he embarrassed himself and Barnes.

“Well, I’d be more creeped out if I hadn’t seen you take a sip of your ale up at the bar and watched you make a face,” the demon said after some thought. “I figure if you’re willing to drink an entire glass of a drink you obviously hate, I will allow you to continue flirting with me.” She lifted her hand to toast him with her own glass. “Cheers, feathers.”

Jim couldn’t help but lean his chin on his hand, smiling at her like a dope. “My name’s James. Everyone but my best friend calls me Jim, though.” Belatedly, he remembered to hold his hand out to shake, glad that no one who knew his mother was there to witness his foible.

The demon took it. “Natasha. But I think I’m just gonna keep calling you ‘feathers.’ I like having a nickname that’s just for me.”

“You could call me anything you wanted and I’d probably answer to it,” Jim admitted.

Natasha looked delighted by the information. “So if I called out ‘hey, asshole—’”

“I would most likely turn around,” Jim confirmed.

“This is the best thing I’ve heard ever,” Natasha informed him. “How long do I get to keep you?”

Jim pulled out his pocket watch. “Uh… Looks close to two hours.”

Natasha looked surprised, and she reached out before seeming to remember herself, curling her fingers back in. “I heard you guys carried pocket watches. I’ve never actually seen it. I’m not allowed up in Heaven because—” She cut herself off abruptly.

Jim raised his eyebrow at her. “Because…?”

“There was an incident,” Natasha said, and then nothing else.

Jim stared at her, considering if this turned him off. He eventually decided it didn’t, and offered her his pocket watch, pleased when she took it with careful fingers. “It’s the only thing that really keeps good time in the heavens.”

“It’s beautiful,” Natasha admitted, turning it over carefully. She pressed on the post to make it pop open and smiled, childishly delighted. “What are these jewels?”

“Ah, it’s… compacted stardust, I think? It was a gift from my parents.”

“Stardust,” Natasha said wonderingly, fingers trailing over the silvery crystals at each hour. “Is there a lot of stardust up there?”

Jim tilted his head thoughtfully. “Um, hmm… I guess? More of that than anything else. I like diamonds myself, but they’re hard to come by in the clouds.”

“I could get you diamonds,” Natasha offered, gaze flicking from his pocket watch to his face. The way her green eyes glimmered through her lashes was very attractive, and it definitely promised wicked things in addition to diamonds.

Jim opened his mouth to tell ask her what she wanted in return, ready to really get his flirt on, but then he noticed a fuzzy little ball with tiny bat wings hovering nearby. It had one single eye that took up most of its body. It was kind of cute but also kind of creepy. “Um. What the fuck is that.”

Natasha blinked at him, stunned at the turn of the conversation. “Huh? What is—what?” she sputtered. She turned. As soon as she saw the hovering pompom, her face soured. “Oh. What do you want?”

“I have a message for Natasha Romanova,” the little thing squeaked.

Jim couldn’t help his mouth falling open a little. The pompom had no visible mouth. How was it talking?

“Speak,” Natasha ordered, still looking perturbed.

“To Miss Natasha Romanova,” the thing squeaked, and then, in a deeper voice, continued, “I’m sad and need ice-cream.”

Jim’s mouth fell open further. What the fuck. Was the thing a recording device? Was it mechanical or was it alive? He sort of wanted to pet it?

Natasha waited a beat, then asked, “That’s it?”

“Affirmative,” the thing squeaked. “Would you like me to repeat the message?”

“No,” she said, unimpressed. “I understood it. Get lost.”

“He required a response,” the thing squeaked.

Natasha’s eyes went dark, and she loomed over it threateningly. “_Go away or_ _I’ll consume you whole_.”

The pompom fluttered backward, looking vaguely horrified, in an adorable, creepy kind of way with its one giant eye. “Sheesh, see if I ever deliver a message to you again!” it squeaked, affronted, and then turned to flutter off.

Jim watched it go, still agape. “What the fuck was that?”

“A message imp,” Natasha replied, shrugging casually, then looked at him in interest. “You don’t have message imps? How do you send messages to each other in the heavens? I’ve heard they’re unbelievably vast.”

Jim actually had to pause to think about it, because he’d never actually given it a second thought, honestly. It seemed like he’d known how to send notes and letters since he was born. “Um… We use the wind to deliver letters.”

“Oh,” Natasha said, looking a little disappointed. “That makes sense. There’s more wind up there.”

“I fold mine into origami frogs,” Jim admitted.

Natasha’s disappointment evaporated immediately. “Frogs?”

“I used to do birds, but everyone does those, so I decided frogs were more interesting.”

Natasha looked like she would bounce in her seat if it wasn’t so undignified. “Can you show me?”

“You’re not worried about the…” Jim glanced over his shoulder, but the pompom was gone. “Message from the imp?”

“He’s been sad and needed ice-cream ever since he embarrassed himself in front of his crush, I don’t care,” Natasha scoffed, leaning her chin on her hand. “He’ll still be sad and need ice-cream in two hours.”

Jim smiled a little, opening his robe to pull out a piece of paper. “As long as you’re sure.”

“I want to see a paper frog more than I want to see his stupid maudlin face,” Natasha assured him, watching as he began folding the paper. “He’s been like this for months and I’m done.”

“Well, you’re in for a treat, because this is the sort of frog that hops when you press down on its butt,” Jim told her.

Natasha’s eyes went wide. “Hops when you press down on its butt?!”

“It’s more of a practical thing,” Jim explained hastily. “I’ll show you when it’s done.”

“Neat,” Natasha breathed.

Jim smiled. “I’m glad you met me first instead of my friend. He can make swallows. They’re difficult to make perfectly, so they’re really impressive.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow at him, unimpressed. “Will they hop if you press down on their butts?”

“Well, no,” Jim said, tilting his head.

“Then I don’t care,” she informed him, looking back down at his hands, where the paper was steadily becoming more and more frog-like.

Jim laughed a little as he creased one last fold. “Well, I hope it lives up to your expectations,” he said, giving it a quick examination to check that it was up to snuff before he set it on the bar in front of her. “You just hold its butt down with one finger and then sort of let it slide out from under it. It’ll hop.” He showed her just for good measure, pulling the frog back flat before releasing it.

Natasha startled as it shot across the bar toward her. “Oh!”

Jim tried not to look too smug as he picked up his glass. He wasn’t entirely sure he succeeded. “Yeah, no one really expects it to go as far as it does.”

“Neat,” Natasha breathed. She pulled the frog flat and let it go, watching as it shot away from her. Her delighted smile lit up her whole face.

Jim almost dropped his drink, she was so beautiful. He swallowed thickly. Would two hours be long enough? He sort of wanted to drop handfuls of stardust all over her. That was probably weird, though. It was weird, wasn’t it?

“So, feathers,” Natasha said after making the frog hop one last time, turning her attention back to him with a smile. “Is what I hear about angels true?”

“Loaded question,” Jim replied.

Natasha’s smile turned sharp. “Saintly in the streets, wicked in the sheets?”

Jim gaped at her. “People say that?”

“Uh,” Natasha began, smile fading. “Uh, some. Some people do.” She winced. “Oh. Is. Is that stereotyping?”

“Uh, yeah?” Jim scoffed. “Just because I have wings doesn’t mean I’m a super saintly person? I once set my mentor on fire.”

Natasha’s mouth dropped open into a little ‘o’ of surprise. “What?!”

“He deserved it,” Jim explained hastily.

“At the risk of making a pun—that is so hot,” Natasha said, and then threw the rest of her ale back. She wiped her mouth and then reached out to grab his arm. “Come on. We’re going back to my place.”

Jim yelped as she dragged him away from their stools. “Ack! My drink!”

“You didn’t like it anyway,” Natasha pointed out.

“It’s the principle of the thing,” he mumbled petulantly. Drinks were expensive down here. She could have at least thrown his back too, so it didn’t go to waste.

Natasha rolled her eyes, but she did look fond. “I have a bottle of wine. Maybe we can crack it open.”

“Well,” Jim said, perking up a little. That made it okay, he guessed.

.-.-.-.

He had a half hour left.

Jim went to close his pocket watch, but then he noticed Natasha peeking up at it from under her eyelashes, head resting on his chest. He turned it so she could see it, and he watched her eyes twitch back and forth, taking in the sparkling stardust, the eggshell-thin porcelain clock face, the wisps of metal that served as the minute and hour hands. He wondered what demons used to tell time.

He opened his mouth to ask her, but all that came out was a high-pitched screech when he noticed the single eye staring at them from the doorway. “WHAT THE FUCK?!”

“What!?” Natasha yelped sitting up. “What is it?!”

“WHAT THE FUCK THE IMPS JUST COME INTO YOUR FUCKING HOUSE?!” Jim bellowed.

Natasha looked around, bewildered, then finally caught on the messenger imp hovering in the doorway. “Oh,” she said lamely. “Uh, yeah.”

“How long has it been here?!” Jim asked, trying not to sound shrill. It didn’t work.

“We produce asexually so copulating is not interesting to us,” the imp squeaked. “It’s more polite to wait for you to finish than interrupt.”

Jim gaped at it, appalled, and pulled the sheets up to cover himself anyway.

“…Sorry,” Natasha said, looking sincerely apologetic, before she sighed and turned to the imp, looking annoyed. “What is it?”

“I have a message for Natasha Romanova,” it squeaked, and then, when she waved it on impatiently, continued, “To Miss Natasha Romanova—”

“It has to do that every time?” Jim couldn’t help but whisper.

“They’re sticklers for formality to make sure the message goes to the right person,” Natasha whispered back, not taking her eyes off the imp.

The imp’s voice changed to the same one that had sent her a message previously. “Natasha I’m in jail. Please come bail me out.”

Natasha stared at the imp, mouth fallen open. “…That’s it?” she asked, looking annoyed again.

“Affirmative,” the imp replied, and then it turned its single eye on Jim. “I have a message for James Rhodes.”

Jim was so surprised he could only blink. He also had a sinking feeling in the bottom of his stomach, because there was really only one person down here currently who would send him a message.

“You have to acknowledge it,” Natasha said, prodding him with her tail.

“What is it,” Jim croaked, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat.

The imp seemed to frown at him in concern, even with no visible mouth. “To Mister James Rhodes,” it squeaked, and then its voice changed to a more familiar one, pitched with panic and dismay. “RHODEY I GOT BARNES ARRESTED PLEASE HELP ME PLEASE. I FINALLY GOT TO APOLOGIZE AND NOW I’VE GOTTEN HIM ARRESTED RHODEY HELP ME. Oh no. I got Barnes arrested and I still don’t have a signature and. And. Pepper’s going to kill me and if she doesn’t I’ll still never be able to talk to Barnes again. A-and I’m ruining your date. I’m s-sorry. I just thought—I’m sorry.” The imp paused. “He made a weird hiccupping noise and sobbed here a few times. I cannot replicate the noise.”

Jim waited for a minute, then scowled at it. He suddenly understood why Natasha got so annoyed with them. “Was that the end?”

“Yes, he was crying too hard to speak anymore,” the imp squeaked.

“Fuck!” Jim shouted, rolling off the bed and grabbing for his robes.

“Jim?” Natasha asked in concern.

Jim hurried into his robes. “Sorry, I just, I—” He paused, then sighed, turning and frowning at her. “I thought my friend could handle something, but I guess… I guess I didn’t realize how upset he actually was, so I’ll just—uh, not that I want to run out on you or anything, Natasha, but… Tony is liable to do something stupid in his distress, and I think it’s better for everyone if I just… go make sure he doesn’t try to bust Barnes out of jail I guess…”

Natasha pinched the bridge of her nose. “Maybe it’ll help if I go bail him out, then. I’ll show you where to go.”

.-.-.-.

Tony had a bald spot on his left wing.

Jim stopped mid-step, only vaguely feeling Natasha’s hand slip out of his.

The bald spot was inflamed, patchy at the edges. There were still a few spots that were actively bleeding, holes that had once had perfectly healthy feathers in them. It was fist-sized. _Someone had grabbed a handful of Tony’s feathers and yanked them out_.

“Rhodey!” Tony sobbed when he saw him, and Jim immediately walked over and gathered him into his arms. “Rhodey they said they were gonna pluck me like a goose!”

Jim’s wings flew out and up, mantling in a threat display at the demons peering at them from the windows of the building Tony was stood by. “_Who_ said they were gonna pluck you like a goose?”

“I don’t know, they were hanging around Barnes when I came up to ask him for his signature,” Tony sobbed.

Jim leaned back, glaring down at him. “Barnes did this?!”

Tony sniffled loudly. “No, he stopped them, but—but if I hadn’t gone to him, maybe—maybe he wouldn’t be—”

“If he stopped them, then why is he the one in jail?” Jim asked harshly.

Tony sniffled again, lifting his hands to wipe his face. He shook his head. He didn’t have an answer. Jim frowned at him sternly, then sighed, reaching out to touch the feathers around the bald patch, trying to feel out some of the damage.

Tony flinched away from him, whimpering, “No, don’t touch it!”

Jim’s wings mantled again, and he was about to force them back down, but Tony just cuddled close, sniffling. He sighed, leaning his cheek on top of his head. “I don’t understand why Barnes is the one in jail if he was only defending you.”

“They said he used excessive force,” Tony sniffled.

Jim grunted angrily and held him tighter, already trying to figure out how to tell Pepper that they needed to send down an affidavit explaining how intimate and sensitive wings were and that even in Heaven they were allowed to use deadly force to protect them. Tony was lucky he hadn’t been due for a molt, otherwise they might have plucked pinfeathers, and then he _really_ would have been in trouble. He should probably consider them both lucky, though—if he’d been there to use deadly force on Tony’s attackers, it probably would have caused a huge incident between Heaven and Hell, and then they’d _really_ be in trouble about paperwork.

“Everything okay?” Natasha asked cautiously once he’d finally settled his wings into a display slightly less threatening. “Do I need to call a doctor or something?”

“Nah, this should keep until we get home,” Jim sighed, stroking his fingers through Tony’s hair when he whimpered. “He has a doctor up there he trusts, so it’s probably better to wait.”

“Okay,” Natasha said, and then, “Well, I’m just gonna go inside and bail Bucky out.”

Jim turned to stare at her in confusion. “Who the hell is Bucky?”

“…You don’t,” Natasha began, and then her face lit up with delighted glee. “Do you have time to wait a minute?”

“Maybe he’ll sign my paperwork if we wait,” Tony mumbled into his throat.

Jim privately thought that Pepper could go kick rocks if she was upset about the paperwork at this point, because Tony was missing a giant patch of feathers, but he’d never be foolish enough to say so out loud. He knew that Tony cared about Pepper’s opinion of him and while he doubted she’d be upset about the signature when she saw his bald patch, he still wanted to show her that he took her seriously. Jim leaned back to check out the damage again. It probably looked worse than it actually was. A quick rinse would probably show the damaged skin already healing.

Natasha came out a few minutes later, with a very familiar demon trailing along behind her. She still looked delighted. “Boys, I think you know Bucky already.”

“Bucky,” Jim began, confused.

Tony leaned back to peer up at him, baffled. “But… his name is James.”

“His name is James Buchanan Barnes and down here he goes by Bucky,” Natasha informed them happily.

“It’s true,” Barnes admitted, even though he looked deeply ashamed to do so. “I go by Bucky.”

Tony’s eyes, somehow, went bigger and wetter as he softly echoed, “Bucky?”

“It’s really not that bad,” Bucky tried to say.

“Bucky?” Tony repeated, voice cracking.

Bucky’s shoulders slumped, conceding. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”

“About your name?!” Natasha shrieked, and yet still looked incredibly amused, as if this was quite possibly the best day of her life.

“Well, whatever you call yourself,” Jim cut in, before Tony could actually burst into tears (because he would, if he let him). He gave the door to the jail a very significant look. “The guys who attacked Tony, they, uh. Were they in there with you?”

Bucky puffed his chest out, looking prouder than a demon with the nickname ‘Bucky’ really should, honestly. “They had to be taken to medical, by the time I was done with ‘em.”

“Oh,” Jim said, warming up to him just a smidgen. Well. If he was going to go by Bucky, at least he had the strength to back it up.

Bucky seemed to remember all at once why he was in jail, though, and the air left him as if he’d been punched in the gut. “You okay, doll? All I really remember is you yelling and then Rumlow had a handful of your feathers, and I, uh… Hazed.” He frowned. “You… said you needed me to sign something, right?”

Tony immediately thrust a sheaf of papers at him, apparently willing to forgive the transgression of Bucky’s terrible nickname in favor of finally getting the signature he needed.

“Seriously?” Natasha couldn’t help but ask, surprised. “You’re still bleeding, Tony.”

Tony wavered, looking between his injured wing and the sheaf of papers, before looking back up at Jim, lower lip trembling.

Jim sighed. “Why don’t we leave the paperwork with him and he can send it back up via messenger? That way you can get your signature, and I can get you seen by a medical professional.”

“But—” Tony began.

Natasha reached out to gently take the papers from his hand. “Hey, I’ll get these back up to you before you can even remember you left them down here, okay? Let Jim take you home and get patched up.”

“I’ll sign whatever paper you need, doll,” Bucky promised. “And you’ll get them back as soon as I’m finished. Let Jim take you home and get your wing seen to before you get an infection.”

Tony looked back and forth between them, distrusting, but finally dipped his head and turned to snuggle up against Jim’s chest again.

“Thanks,” Jim said, unsure who he was really thanking, and hefted Tony up into his arms.

Natasha looked like she might fall over as she watched him do it. “Fucking hell, feathers.”

Jim paused to stare at her, brows furrowing together. “What?”

Tony peeked over his shoulder to see what he was looking at, then seemed to forget all of his pain and anguish, smiling at Natasha smugly. “Yes, Rhodey is very muscular. You should feel his muscles when you come to deliver the paperwork—”

“Are you hitting on Natasha _for_ me?” Jim squawked.

Tony pouted up at him. “Well I did sort of ruin your date, and—”

“If she doesn’t like me because I jumped out of bed to help my friend I don’t really wanna date her anyway!” Jim barked, and then offered Natasha a grimace. “No offense.”

Natasha, somehow, looked smitten. “None taken.”

Bucky, on the other hand, looked pained. “Oh fuck you really weren’t making fun of me when I was flirting with you before. You really are just that oblivious.”

“Hey!” Tony exclaimed, looking hurt again.

“You are actively bleeding and you’re trying to get them together and _they already did the deed, Tony_,” Bucky said, motioning between Jim and Natasha.

Tony blinked at him slowly, then turned to look up at Jim with wide eyes. “You did? But—You don’t even like brimstone ale!”

“He made the cutest disgusted expression trying to impress me and I was gone for him,” Natasha said, smirking.

“This isn’t fair,” Tony grumbled to himself. “You got laid by a hot demon lady and I got my feathers pulled out looking for someone to sign my paperwork. Where’s the justice. I haven’t gotten laid in a millennium.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Jim scoffed. “It’s only been a couple centuries and it’s always because you never realize people are flirting with you.” He nodded his head at Bucky, who was looking through the paperwork with a frown. “Maybe if you ask Natasha nicely, she’ll bring Bucky to return the paperwork with her and you can ask him to fuck you.”

Tony gasped in affront. “I can’t just ask him that after I got him sent to jail!”

“You can,” Natasha assured him quickly, and Jim was suddenly reminded of the ‘I’m sad and need ice-cream’ message she’d gotten. She’d said he was sad and needed ice-cream a lot. “In fact, I have it on good authority that he would love to take you to bed.”

Tony wavered. “But… what if he’s just doing it to be nice…”

Natasha stared at him. She appeared to be caught between disbelief and actual, physical pain. “Please. Please just ask him to fuck you. I cannot eat another bite of fudge ripple crunch. My teeth hurt.”

“You guys have fudge ripple crunch down here?” Tony asked, offended.

“Bucky will bring some for you when we return your paperwork,” Natasha answered hastily. “Go get your wing seen to.”

Jim swallowed down his laughter at the suspicious glare Tony gave her, as if he didn’t trust her to make sure he got any. “Come on, Tony. Let’s go.”

“You can bring Rhodey some butter pecan!” Tony called out as Jim flapped his wings. “He’s got bad taste and likes that flavor!”

“I’ll think about it!” Natasha called back.

Tony leaned back, apparently satisfied, then looked up at Jim in affront. “It’s really not fair,” he told Jim seriously. “You don’t even like brimstone ale.”

Jim laughed. “You’re such a weirdo. Come on—I’m concerned about your wing.”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed sadly, tucking his head against Jim’s neck.

Jim nuzzled his hair, then quietly asked, “So, sent your attackers to medical, huh?”

Tony smiled, soft and shy. “They didn’t even get a chance to laugh about pulling my feathers out.”

“Sounds like someone’s kinda sweet on you,” Jim teased, and when Tony didn’t argue, just covered his blushing face, he swore he’d get them together even if it meant sending them both to Earth and locking them in a human closet.

After making sure that Bucky knew he’d smite him if he hurt Tony at all, of course.

.-.-.-.

Jim only got to threaten Bucky a little before Natasha was trying to climb him like a tree. “So that does it for you, huh? Me threatening your friend?”

“I am a demon of simple tastes,” Natasha confirmed.

Jim looked at Bucky. “Uh.”

“It’s a primal thing, we can’t really explain it,” Bucky said, shrugging. He started to offer the sheaf of papers he’d signed to him. “Tony seemed really distraught, so—”

“I’m busy,” Jim said, hooking an arm under one of Natasha’s thighs and turning to walk away from him.

“Wh—bu—hey!” Bucky barked, offended. “He needs them!”

Natasha sighed as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders. “He’s actually super worried about Tony and his wing, so we should probably go see Tony first.” She grabbed Jim’s cheeks and forced him to tilt his head back so he was looking up at her. “But after! After, we’re going to do stuff so filthy that you can’t even look at a halo again.”

“It’s cute that you think I actually have a halo,” Jim told her fondly.

She blinked down at him, surprised. “You don’t?”

“No, that's just our auras. You just see it as halos because most people try and make eye contact. Tony’s in medical, Barnes,” Jim added, and pointed in its direction. “Take a left at that bunch of clouds, and—”

“Fun fact! My eyes were not meant for the brightness of the heavens and _all clouds look the same_,” Bucky cut in.

Jim turned to frown at him. “No. Seriously?”

“It’s true,” Natasha confirmed. “I only navigated us here because I was scenting you.” She held up the frog he’d made for her earlier. “You smell good, by the way. I know some angels get unsettled when they’re told they have a scent.”

“Oddly enough, I’m finding it kind of sexy,” Jim admitted.

Bucky smacked them with the sheaf of papers, scowling. “Don’t get horny in front of me, that’s gross! Just help me find Tony so I can give him this paperwork!”

“And the ice-cream,” Natasha added. “Don’t forget that you brought him some ice-cream.”

“That’s adorable,” Jim told him, surprised. “You seriously brought him ice-cream? He was just complaining to complain, you know.”

Bucky shrugged uncomfortably. “Well, he was…” He shrugged again when he only received a skeptically raised eyebrow, sighing quietly. “He just… looked so sad when he asked for my signature,” he finally said.

Jim paused to stare at him for an unsettlingly long time before he said, “Tony’s going to have you wrapped around his little finger.”

“He already does,” Natasha informed him gleefully.

“You poor sap,” Jim said. He couldn’t tell if he meant it or not. On one hand, Tony could do with someone doting on him. On the other, Tony also needed someone to not let him do stupid shit, and Bucky gave off the impression that he would be helpless in the face of Tony’s puppy eyes, which Tony insisted he had no control over except he absolutely fucking did.

“I brought you butter pecan, too,” Natasha added. “I was betting on it being a joke but I didn’t want to take the chance that it wasn’t.”

Jim shrugged. “I do, regrettably, enjoy butter pecan.”

“Well, it’s melting, so if you could just,” Bucky said impatiently, motioning to hurry him along.

“You know, I’ve actually just realized I’ve got a date, so,” Jim replied, hefting Natasha higher into his arms. Bucky seriously appeared to be considering whether or not to drop-kick him while he was holding Natasha, so he turned and shouted, “Peter!”

The little cherub appeared immediately, as if he’d been waiting for someone to summon him. He always got like this around times Tony got injured, though. “Yes Mr. Rhodey sir!”

“Mr. Rhodey sir,” Natasha repeated softly, amused.

“He’s like this,” Jim sighed, rolling his eyes, but couldn’t quite keep the fondness out of his voice. He turned his attention back to Peter. “Please show Barnes to Tony. He can’t see very well up here, and he has important paperwork that Tony needs. I think if Tony had the paperwork, it would help him relax more.”

“Of course!” Peter exclaimed, brightening at the idea of helping Tony to relax.

Jim noticed Natasha flinch, eyes squinting shut, and Bucky actually lifted his had to guard his eyes. He’d forgotten that younger angels actively had to learn to dim themselves down. “Demons are sensitive to light, kid. Cut it out.”

“Really?!” Peter asked, boggled, then turned his wide-eyed gaze on Bucky. “Cool!” He paused to take a deep breath, the light he was emitting dimming. Then he looked back up at Bucky. “What else is different about you guys?!”

“Uh, we like crushing bones between our teeth, I guess,” Bucky answered, even though he didn't seem to feel like he should have. He allowed the cherub to take his hand and begin leading him like he was an invalid.

Jim and Natasha watched them go, amused. “Are you gonna tell him we’re not actually blind, or…” Natasha began.

“Barnes has got a mouth. He can tell Peter that himself,” Jim scoffed, then leered at her. “So. About that butter pecan ice-cream. Any chance I could eat it off your body?”

“Absolutely not,” she answered cheerfully. “Pecans make me break out in hives. However!” Natasha smirked and cupped his cheeks. “I brought some plain vanilla, too. We can take turns.” She paused, and then added, somewhat awkwardly, “And also maybe you could make me another frog. Because the one you gave me is lonely.”

Jim almost laughed, but mostly he just felt his heart turning into a gooey marshmallow. “I’ll make you a new frog each time I see you,” he promised, watching her face.

Thankfully, her lips spread into a wide smile. “I’m gonna have so many frogs.”

“So many you’ll need to build a separate room for them,” Jim agreed, and then leaned in to kiss her smile.


	31. Eddie/Venom/Tony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I can say is: At least I got it finished before the next August. Also somehow this became a western. I’m not sorry.

Monster/Monster Hunter/Monster Tamer AU

_Hungry, Eddie,_ Venom whined in his head.

Eddie didn’t look up from his typewriter. “You’re always hungry.”

Venom’s head wiggled up from his hand so the human could have the benefit of his glare as he hissed, “Maybe if you actually ate something!!!!! Asshole!!!!!”

Eddie slapped his other hand down on him and savored the offended squawk he received. “Maybe if you hadn’t been a gluttonous jerk, we could be fed regularly! But no. ‘One cow,’ I said. ‘The ranchers won’t miss one steer.’ And what did you do?”

Venom wiggled up from between his fingers miserably. “I ate a dozen.”

“You ate a dozen!” Eddie snapped, scowling at him. “Don’t you remember what I told you about keeping a low profile? We’re lucky that no one has realized it was us! They hang cattle rustlers out here!”

“I wouldn’t let you be hanged, Eddie,” Venom tells him petulantly.

“No, you wouldn’t,” Eddie agreed. “But then we’d be chased out of town and I’d have to start everything over. Again.”

Venom squirmed, miserable and angry in turn. Eddie still couldn’t hear the name Carlton Drake without flinching. Eddie had had more broken bones than he hadn’t when Venom had come across him, and Venom had sensed something in him, something broken and angry, but not evil. So he’d bonded with Eddie, healed him, but hadn’t realized how much hungrier he’d be after doing so, his single form needing much less energy. Now he needed to eat more, and Eddie had been doing his best to make sure it happened, but things were definitely more difficult now that he'd overeaten that one time.

Eddie sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Maybe someone will come in with a sighting and we’ll be able to go eat a basilisk or something.”

Venom brightened. “A basilisk, Eddie!”

“Gross,” Eddie said, but his voice was fond. “You know it’s just a giant snake, right?”

“Tastes like chicken,” Venom answered, and then peered at the typewriter. “What are you writing? Looks boring.”

“Hey!” Eddie said, but it was without heat. It was kind of boring, actually. “Just typing up my report from when we took care of that cockatrice last week. I’m trying to make it sound like we didn’t eat it.”

Venom considered this, then repeated, “Boring.”

“Go away,” Eddie ordered, shooing him, and went back to typing.

Venom stuck his tongue out at him before wiggling up his arm to perch on his shoulder, choosing to observe. He was glad he had, because he was able to curl under the collar of Eddie’s shirt quickly when the door to their little house burst open.

“Brock!” someone barked, and Eddie squinted up at him in distaste, because what asshole just burst into someone else’s house? The man stepped inside further, revealing himself to be a man that he recognized as Obadiah Stane. Now he wasn't even surprised that he'd burst into their house. Stane had very little respect for anyone else, including their privacy. He probably thought he had the _right_ to just storm into anyone's home. “We have a werewolf problem!”

Eddie waited a beat, then slowly said, “I haven’t heard what the problem is.”

Stane’s face went red with rage. “I thought you’d be smart enough to infer! Clearly the animal is killing all our cattle!”

Venom wriggled in Eddie’s collar angrily. Eddie was not dumb. Stane was dumb. And rude, for just storming into their house!

“And how do you know it’s a werewolf?” Eddie asked, not looking up from his typewriter.

Stane’s face went from red to purple. “Clearly from all the paw prints! I can’t believe you’re trusted to take down monsters when you’re such an idiot.”

“You know, it’s more likely that I just don’t like you,” Eddie said, finally looking up from his typewriter to give Stane a venomous glare. “Since you still haven’t paid me for that bugbear I took care of for you last year. Considering you owe me a hundred dollars, I’m not really inclined to help you with your little ‘werewolf’ problem.”

Stane didn’t let that slow him down, snarling, “You’re tasked with taking care of all monsters in this town!”

“I get _paid_ to take care of all the monsters that show up around this town,” Eddie corrected coolly. “You owe me a hundred dollars. And if it’s werewolves, I’m charging you two hundred more. _Payable up front_,” he added when Stane opened his mouth, probably to go on some tirade. “Otherwise you can go ask Rumlow or Hammer.”

He enjoyed watching Stane squirm. Rumlow was good at his job, insofar as an end resulting in a dead monster, but he was also not against collateral damage; if he was hired, Stane could count on losing more cattle, or even some of his cowhands. Hammer was incompetent all the way around, and any monster deaths were more a miracle than skill, but he was flashy enough about it that people were still willing to hire him. They both charged double what Eddie did. Still, some people were willing to shell out for them, because Eddie tended to give normal people the creeps. Venom hid himself well, but humans could sense that he was there somehow.

“If you have nothing to say, quit wasting my time and get out,” Eddie said coldly.

Stane glared at him before storming out, slamming the door behind himself.

Venom poked out from over Eddie’s collar, scowling. “We should eat him.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Eddie mumbled, but he was smiling a little. He lifted his hand, gently rubbing it over Venom’s head. “He’ll be back. He’s too cheap to pay for Rumlow and Hammer.”

“Gonna eat some werewolves, Eddie!” Venom wiggled gleefully.

Eddie smiled and tipped his head over a little to nudge him with it, chuckling softly when he felt Venom press his face in for a facsimile of a kiss.

.-.-.-.

Like Eddie had expected, an envelope with three crisp hundred-dollar bills in it was slid under his door. He took it to the bank so no one could try and hold him up for it, because he wouldn’t put it past Stane to try and get the money back, the cheapskate. Then he rented a horse and rode out to where a cowhand had pointed when he’d mentioned werewolves, examining the ground carefully for prints.

Venom was wiggling with glee. _Gonna eat some werewolves, Eddie._

“Maybe,” Eddie allowed, but he got the impression that that would not actually be the case.

The paw prints were… small. Really small. He could have written them off as pups, but if that was true, he’d also see at least one pair of larger prints, a parent watching after them carefully. Not only that, but the carcasses of the cattle were whole, for the most part. Some of them had been chewed on, and a few were almost picked clean, but that could be because of vultures, or coyotes, or other scavengers. He circled one of the more intact carcasses, frowning. Something wasn’t right about it, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what.

_Eddie,_ Venom said, and then his head appeared from his shoulder. “Eddie,” he repeated again, looking concerned.

Eddie frowned at him. “What? What is it?”

“There’s no blood in the cattle, Eddie,” Venom said.

Eddie blinked at him, uncomprehending, then turned his gaze back on the carcasses. Venom was right. There was no blood to be seen, except for a few dried smudges at the edges of torn flesh. Even the soil was free of blood, dirt dry enough to kick up under his feet as he circled them. He viewed the carcasses thoughtfully. Under closer inspection, the cattle with flesh still on their bones had puncture marks on their chests and throats.

“Looks more like chupacabras than werewolves,” he finally decided.

“Chupacabras?!” Venom howled, dismayed. He rolled off of Eddie’s shoulder and down his body to pound the ground with tiny tendrils, wailing, “Those taste bad, Eddie!”

Eddie watched him roll around, feeling like he should be embarrassed for him but mostly just feeling very, very amused. Venom was apparently hundreds of years old, and yet here he was, throwing a tantrum like a disappointed two-year-old. “You’ve only had a chupacabra once, and you swallowed it whole, so how would you know it tastes bad?”

Venom apparently tired himself out, lying in the dust miserably, gooey body heaving with breaths until he finally mumbled, “Smelled like rotten meat.”

Eddie reached down to scoop him up, placing him in his breast pocket and giving him a pat. Once Venom had curled up over the edge of his pocket so he could see where they were going, he began back toward his horse. “Well, a job is a job. Maybe it’ll keep you full long enough that the ranchers will let their guards down and we can go back to cattle. One,” he added sharply when Venom excitedly wiggled a couple tendrils. “One steer at a time.”

“I’ve learned my lesson, Eddie,” Venom agreed gravely.

Eddie snorted. “I doubt it, but alright.”

It might not have been chupacabras, Eddie decided after their second hour riding. He should have found a den by now, or at least another feeding area. Chupacabras covered wide swaths of territory, so they had many dens to rest in. It was uncommon that they’d hunt so far from a den. Or if it was chupacabras, they were more aggressive than what Eddie was used to dealing with.

He hoped Venom was hungry.

.-.-.-.

They found a man camping before they found the chupacabras.

“What the fuck are you doing out here,” Eddie barked before he could stop himself. It was dangerous for him out here alone, especially because he couldn’t see any rifle nearby.

The man blinked up at him wide eyes, stunned. “W-what?”

“Don’t you know it’s dangerous out on the range alone?!” Eddie asked, slipping from the back of his horse. “You don’t even have a gun on you! If it’s not a monster after you, criminals will be! And you’ve got a fire going—”

“I, uh,” the man began, still too startled to string a sentence together.

Eddie would have kept approaching him, except then he heard a bark, and he looked down to find what was, perhaps, the ugliest little dog he’d seen. It looked like a cross between a bulldog and a Chihuahua. As he watched, two more of the little beasts came sprinting from under the man’s tiny wagon, and they all began barking at him.

_These are uglier than chupacabras, Eddie,_ Venom informed him imperiously.

Eddie had to agree.

“Hey, hey, cut that out,” the man snapped, standing up and waving them away. “What are you trying to do? Get kicked across the prairie?” The dogs mulishly allowed themselves to be waved away. “Yeah, that’s what I thought! Little rapscallions. Trying to get me in trouble with the law.” He rubbed the back of his head, looking up at Eddie from under his lashes. “Sorry about that. They’re protective. Can I, uh… offer you a cup of coffee or anything?”

Eddie nodded, because the only other option was to incredulously repeat _‘rapscallions?!’_ and he wanted to be on this guy’s good side when he yelled at him to get the hell to town for his own safety. “It’s dangerous to be out here alone,” he said, instead of calling him an idiot. “Town’s a couple hours’ ride away. You should head there—”

_ROTTING FLESH, ROTTING FLESH!_ Venom screamed in his head, and Eddie almost fell ass over teakettle as Venom forced him to whip his head around.

“WOLF,” Eddie yelped, pointing at the back of the man’s wagon.

_DEAD THING,_ Venom added.

“AH,” Eddie yelped.

The man stared at him, mouth dropped open in shock.

“Rude,” the wolf said.

Eddie grabbed for his gun and pointed it at the wolf. The wolf looked entirely unconcerned.

“Don’t shoot him he’s already dead!” the man barked, reaching out toward his gun but stopping short of touching it, as if realizing it would be a bad idea to try and grab it from him.

Eddie gaped at him, bewildered. “What do you mean, _he’s already dead!?_”

“Sometimes wolves just… reanimate!” the man said, shrugging.

Eddie continued to gape at him, stunned, before he turned toward him completely and shouted, “No they fucking don’t!”

The man stumbled backward in surprise, then drew himself up straight. “You don’t know that!”

Eddie, for all that he knew he was being baited, could not stop himself from rising to the bait anyway. “Yes I fucking do! And if this wolf is a reanimated dead thing, it’s all the more reason to kill it!”

“Rude,” the wolf said again.

Eddie turned sharply to point at it. “You shut up, you abomination!”

The wolf tilted its head, then shrugged, conceding.

Eddie turned back to the man, pointing at him instead. “And you! Start talking!”

“I don’t have to do anything,” the man began.

Eddie sensed more than felt Venom looming up behind him, all angry eyes and sharp teeth and twisting tendrils of dark energy.

“Won’t you sit down and have some coffee while I explain,” the man squeaked, trying very hard to look like he wasn't intimidated and failing spectacularly.

.-.-.-.

Stane wasn’t actually the owner of the Carbonell Ranch. It had originally belonged to Maria Carbonell, who had been a lady of high regards. She’d never married her beau because she was unwilling to give up title to her land. That hadn’t stopped her from having a baby boy with dark curls and mischievous eyes. Her son, Anthony, had always been meant to inherit the ranch when she died.

Unfortunately, Stane, who had been her ranch foreman, had learned that Tony’s father had been a vampire, and had done some pretty impressive legal feats to bar Tony from being able to inherit, and had bought it for a paltry sum, probably because the judge (one Alexander Pierce) had wanted the Carbonell Ranch under his legal thumb, and Maria had never bowed to him.

“So now I just sorta, um… wreck Stane’s shit,” Tony finished lamely, poking at the smoldering remains of the fire. “I can’t go into town, because Pierce’s men might get me. But I can’t stay in one place out here too long, or Stane or his men might find me. And I can’t leave, because Mama accidentally bound my soul to the ranch. She was a powerful witch, you see, and wielded incredible power, but, uh… this sort of thing is the reason witches usually just tragically end their own lives.” He scratched his chin, wincing a little under Eddie’s appalled gaze. “Once she started getting that sickly, she started to lose control of her powers, and when she read over her will one last time, she bound me to the ranch.

“It’s not all bad, I guess,” he added thoughtfully. “She spelled the soil to be fertile, and she spelled the cattle to thrive. The river bordering the east side of her property will always flow. Technically you’re not supposed to do that, but like… what are they gonna do to her now? She’s dead. And now there’s just me,” he finished grimly. “The last of the Carbonells.” He snorted, but there wasn’t any humor in it. “Last of the Starks, too.”

“I mean,” Eddie began, knowing anything he said would just be lame. He looked at the ugly little dogs curled up in the shade of the wagon, and the wolf curled up on the back of it. “It can’t be all bad. You’ve got these… um…”

“DID YOU SAY STARK!?” Venom bellowed, and Eddie yelped and fell backward in surprise, because Venom had been mostly minding his own business and sticking his tentacles in Eddie’s coffee mug because he knew Eddie hated it.

Tony eyed the gooey black form warily. “Yeah?”

“As in, HOWARD STARK?” Venom bellowed again.

“Venom will you quiet down?! Do you want the whole goddamn prairie to hear you?” Eddie hissed, appalled.

Venom loomed at Tony, ignoring him. “Howard Stark is your father? You’re a Dhampir?!”

Tony leaned back so none of Venom’s tendrils could touch him. “Uh. Did he get on your bad side, too? You shouldn’t visit the sins of the father upon his children, you know—”

“I can’t believe the world’s most powerful vampire was fucking the most powerful witch and I didn’t know about it!” Venom howled. “No one gossips with me ever since that witch thing in Salem! Eddie, once this job is done, we’re setting out to find a proper snipe to gossip with!”

“Snipes aren’t real,” was all Eddie could come up with.

The wolf gave him an affronted glare. “Yes they are!”

“I am begging you not to talk to me,” Eddie told it.

“Don’t mind him, he’s relatively new to this whole ‘speaking with the supernatural’ thing,” Venom cut in.

Eddie turned his head to gape up at him, offended.

“So, uh,” Tony began.

Both Eddie and Venom swiveled to look back at him.

Tony looked like he was starting to sweat under their stares. “Uh, um. So. What’s the deal with… you. You guys. Uh, guys, right?” He looked at the ground, apparently willing it to open up underneath him.

“Venom’s technically not a he, but whenever I called him a ‘they’ he got upset because—” Eddie began to offer.

“We are not they!” Venom cut in, swelling up proudly. “We are we!”

“That makes sense,” Tony said, voice cracking in a way that made it clear it actually didn’t.

To be fair, Eddie often didn’t understand, but Venom had saved his life several times, so he was happy to just nod along when he got like this. “Anyway, we’re, ah—well I, that is, I’m a journalist. I write for the local newspaper.”

“Oh, the _Timely Star_?” Tony asked, perking up. He wrapped his arms around his knees and leaned toward him. “I don’t get into town much—understandably, I think—and I get a bit behind. What’s going on in town? Did Natasha finally put Barnes out of his misery and marry him? Is Rogers still the sheriff? Is Bruce still the doctor or did he finally get fed up and roll out?”

“Oh, well,” Eddie began, overwhelmed.

Venom wiggled in front of him, waving his tentacles to get Tony’s attention. “Tony, I am faint with hunger,” he said demurely. “May I please have something to eat.”

Eddie was appalled. “Don’t be so polite,” he snapped. “It’s weird. You’re never polite.”

“His mother was Maria Carbonell,” Venom gasped, offended. “She once gave me a piece of dried jerky.” He turned wide, begging eyes on Tony. “I don’t suppose you might have some-?”

“I couldn’t really grab much when I escaped Stane,” Tony admitted, frowning down at his feet. “I’ve mostly been living off of whatever I can scavenge, or—sometimes the Parker boy brings me a bag of grub if I send Jarvis over with some coins. The sheriff used to bring me supplies, but then Pierce started breathing down his neck, and we decided he couldn’t help me if Pierce was suspicious of him.”

Venom stared at him, weighing what he’d been told, before he haltingly offered, “I… I will eat Stane.”

“No,” Eddie choked out.

“But then Tony could take his ranch back!!!” Venom exclaimed.

Tony grimaced. “I’m pretty sure it would actually just go to his son, Ezekiel.”

“Ew, that guy procreated?!” Venom gasped, disgusted.

The laugh that burst from Tony was slightly hysterical, but it was still a laugh.

.-.-.-.

Eventually, Eddie decided to help Tony, if only because he hated Stane’s guts and would be happy to be rid of the asshole. “We’ll just need to figure out some legal loopholes. I’m good at legal loopholes,” he mused.

“Really?” Tony asked, not looking convinced.

Eddie didn’t blame him. He’d had his inheritance taken away because of legal loopholes, after all. He couldn’t trust that Eddie would be able to get it back for him when there was a crooked judge involved.

“Eddie is excellent at finding legal loopholes,” Venom told Tony proudly. “It’s how he’s lived so long!”

“Uh,” Tony said, looking concerned.

“Sometimes people don’t like journalists poking their noses where they don’t belong,” Eddie explained hastily, and then coughed. “And, uh. I don’t suppose you have a wolf pelt or something I could take to Stane so that I could say the job was done for now? Just lay low while I work this out.”

Tony frowned at him. “I don’t really… You could take Jarvis’s head, I guess?”

Eddie and Venom stared at him, confused and, in Eddie’s case, incredibly horrified.

“As long as you bring it back,” Jarvis added.

“Yeah, I can just put it back on him,” Tony explained cheerfully. “Good as new! As if it never happened.”

Eddie couldn’t even form words. “We’ll… figure something else out,” Venom finally said, trying not to let his voice sound weak and failing.

Tony and Jarvis both shrugged, unbothered. Tony followed him as Eddie moved to get his horse. “I scrounged up a little money. I don’t suppose I could impose upon you to ask the Parker boy to come by with a few coins’ worth of flour?”

Eddie looked down at the few copper coins in Tony’s extended hand before looking back up at him, eyes soft. “Yeah, we don’t mind.”

“Thanks,” Tony said, smiling up at him. He had a dimple on his right cheek.

_Fuck,_ Venom said in Eddie’s head. _You always were a sucker for dimples._

.-.-.-.

“Don’t throw me out,” Eddie said immediately after stepping through the door.

Sheriff Rogers pointed his gun at him, scowling. “I’m still not convinced that wasn’t your face on that handbill, Brock, so talk quick.”

Eddie held his hands up, placating him. It wasn't not like he needed his hands to defend himself or attack anyway. “I met Tony. Stark? Tony Stark. And—”

“Tony?” Sheriff Rogers asked, perking up a little. His gun dipped slightly. “I haven’t been able to get out an’ see him. How’s he doin’ out there?” He narrowed his eyes, lifting his gun back up. “What did you want him for?”

“He’s… been better,” Eddie admitted. “Stane hired me to take care of a werewolf problem but it was actually Tony’s ugly little dogs? I guess he uses magic to make them bigger or something so they can attack Stane’s cattle. Anyway I was hoping you might have like an old wolf pelt or something so I can make it seem like I took out the werewolves…”

“Tony offered you Jarvis’s head, didn’t he,” Sheriff Rogers deadpanned. “As long as you brought it back.”

Eddie dropped his hands, glaring at him. “How dare you say that. I had to hear the offer once and now you’re making me remember it. You should have just shot me. That would have been kinder.”

Sheriff Rogers snorted. He finally put his gun back in its holster. “I’m just glad I’m not the only one he’s offered that to. I got a coyote pelt, would that help?”

Eddie rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Yeah, I can probably work with that.” He saw Venom’s tendrils curling over the side of his breast pocket and smacked his hand over it quickly. Then he winced, because not only had he slapped his hand down harder than he’d meant to, but Venom was radiating offense at him and was now biting whatever skin he could reach. He was also trying to yell at him.

Sheriff Rogers stared at him. Eddie couldn’t really blame him. It wasn’t every day that a fella you didn’t like slapped himself in the chest and then his chest started yelling at him.

“Ouch!” Eddie exclaimed, pissed, when Venom finally bit into a cuticle, and whipped his hand back.

Venom stuck his tongue out at him before curling up out of his pocket and rolling down his body onto the floor. “Sheriff!” he said, throwing a few tentacles out as if to do a small ‘ta da!’

Sheriff Rogers stared at Venom before reaching for his gun again.

“Don’t shoot me I’ll just reform and then I’ll be pissed!” Venom shouted.

Sheriff Rogers looked like he was seriously considering still shooting him anyway. Eddie couldn’t blame him for that, either. Finally, though, Sheriff Rogers dropped his hand and lifted the other to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Okay. Okay. Some things about you are startin’ t’ make sense, Eddie.”

Venom appeared smug about this. Eddie did not know how to tell him it wasn’t necessarily a good thing, so he didn’t say anything. “Sheriff! I have a proposition!” he said, wiggling closer to him.

Sheriff Rogers frowned at him skeptically. “Is it safe for me to hear it?”

Venom stared up at him for a minute, bewildered, then seemed to realize that the man was asking if he’d curse him or something stupid like that if he heard Venom out. He had better things to do than curse a sheriff. “I’m going to ignore this slight about my character,” he finally said, narrowing his eyes at the sheriff. “Anyway. I have a proposition! And—”

“Is it illegal?” Sheriff Rogers asked flatly, crossing his arms.

Venom waved his tentacles at him threateningly. “How the fuck should I know! Human laws are stupid! You could stand less of them.”

“He’s kidding,” Eddie said hastily when the sheriff’s mouth dropped open in shock. He nudged Venom with his boot. “He is definitely kidding.”

Venom turned to glare at him, then turned his attention back to the sheriff. “I’m not. Anyhow! My proposition is this.” He moved his tentacles over to the left. “I take Judge Pierce.” He moved his tentacles over to the right. “I put his head in my mouth.” He spread his tentacles proudly. “And voila!”

“And voila,” Sheriff Rogers repeated in confusion, raising an eyebrow. “And—what? I don’t. Like a lion tamer at the circus would, or-?”

“He’s gonna eat Judge Pierce’s head, Sheriff,” Eddie deadpanned.

Sheriff Rogers’s mouth dropped open again. He looked offended. “That’s illegal.”

“Well how was I supposed to know that?!” Venom hollered.

Eddie leaned down to pick him up, scooping him up in his hands. “Great job, Venom,” he scolded, even as he delicately deposited him on his shoulder. “Now we’re going to be arrested for a crime we haven’t even committed yet.”

“I can’t arrest you based on what that… thing, was saying,” Sheriff Rogers said, rolling his eyes. Then he looked at Venom, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Can you even fit a man’s head in your mouth?”

“I can be big!” Venom gasped, glaring back at him. He basically radiated offense at the sheriff's doubt. “I just choose to be small like this because I don’t have to eat as much! And also I like riding in Eddie’s pocket!”

Sheriff Rogers was silent for a very long time—long enough that Eddie was considering just sorta… slowly backing out of the jailhouse and scampering home, hoping the sheriff would forget about what Venom had suggested and, if possible, forget about Venom entirely. Finally, though, Sheriff Rogers shifted his weight to one side, placing his other hand on his hip. “Go on.”

“Go on?” Eddie squeaked.

Venom had no such hesitations, waving his tentacles excitedly. “I’ll eat Judge Pierce’s head! And then the rest probably! And then you and Eddie can work on all this legal mumbo jumbo to get Tony his land back!”

“What about Pierce’s lackeys? Stane’s?” Sheriff Rogers asked.

“I’ll eat them too!” Venom replied cheerfully.

Eddie considered just throwing Venom on the ground and leaving town entirely. But then Venom would probably track him down after eating Sheriff Rogers, and he’d have an earful of ranting that Eddie would have to listen to. Sheriff Rogers was a good man, even if his hands were often tied by a crooked judge. And he really didn’t want to listen to Venom yelling at him.

“Promise to eat all the evidence and I promise to be out of town checking on the Barton farm while you do it,” Sheriff Rogers said. “And if you’re caught? I _will_ deny ever having talked with you.”

“DEAL!” Venom exclaimed gleefully.

Eddie stared at Sheriff Rogers, absolutely agog. “You’re. You’re condoning this?”

“Listen,” Sheriff Rogers sighed. “Maria Carbonell always sent whatever extra food she could spare into town after harvest t’ be rationed out t’ the less fortunate. Tony did that too, in the years he controlled the ranch before it was snatched from under him. They never took more ‘n they needed, and they were always willin’ to help anyone who struggled. Ever since Stane took over, he’s made life miserable, intimidatin’ people so he could buy up their farms cheap, and shootin’ people he claimed were trespassin’. Stane and Pierce ‘ll turn Timely into a ghost town.” He took off his hat and rubbed a hand down his face, looking more tired than Eddie had ever seen him. “Timely needs Tony to control the Carbonell Ranch if it has any chances of survivin’. Me, especially,” he added grimly.

Eddie frowned, but it made sense. If Judge Pierce and Stane wanted to take over the town, Sheriff Rogers would be the first person in their way, so he’d be the first person they’d shoot down. “Just let us figure out the best time and we’ll let you know when you should go see the Bartons.”

Sheriff Rogers scratched his chin idly, squinting up at the ceiling. “Pierce is always in the saloon with his cronies until th’ early hours of the mornin’. Usually alone. It’s the gossip around town,” he added casually when Eddie and Venom gaped at him in surprise.

“Oh really?” Eddie squeaked.

Sheriff Rogers shrugged one shoulder, calculatedly blasé.

When he turned to go look over some paperwork, they saw the faintest hint of a smirk on his face.

Venom and Eddie wisely decided to take their leave of him.

.-.-.-.

Not surprisingly, exactly zero people mourned the fact that Judge Pierce and his cronies had disappeared.

“So you just… swallowed them whole?” Sheriff Rogers asked, scratching the back of his head.

“Don’t worry about it,” Venom said from where he was lounging in Eddie’s pocket, feeling very full and very, very smug about it.

Sheriff Rogers stared at Eddie’s pocket for a long time before meeting Eddie’s gaze. “Did you make any progress on those loopholes you were goin’ on about yesterday?”

“No, but the owner of the saloon overheard us and I’m pretty sure she’s plotting how to threaten Stane into signing the ranch back over to Tony,” Eddie admitted. “She frightens me, Sheriff.”

“Natasha frightens everyone except Tony,” Sheriff Rogers mumbled, looking vaguely annoyed by it. “Tony sees a cockroach and screams blue murder, but Natasha threatens him with a knife and he thinks she’s the cream of the crop. I don’t get it.”

Venom flailed his tentacles wildly until he could heave himself up to peer at Sheriff Rogers over the edge of Eddie’s pocket. “That’s because Tony has excellent taste!” he declared. “And! He gives great pets.”

“…You like to be pet?” Sheriff Rogers asked after an awkward pause.

“No,” Venom said immediately, glaring at him. “Unless it’s Eddie! Or Tony! Tony has nice hands. I like them.”

“Okay,” Sheriff Rogers said and then looked at Eddie. “I don’t like this conversation so I’m gonna leave.”

“Sounds fair,” Eddie admitted, lifting his hand to rub his thumb over Venom’s head. He looked down at him, smiling a little. “Was that your way of hinting that we should go visit Tony, maybe take him some supplies?”

“No,” Venom scoffed. “I don’t hint! I just tell you when I want something.”

Eddie snorted, turning back to the newspaper he’d scooped up from the hotel, something from back east that talked about something called an automobile. “Okay, Venom. Whatever you say.”

Venom stuck his tongue out at him and sank back into his pocket. Five minutes later, he curled his tentacles over and peered up at Eddie over the edge of it. “I want to go visit Tony, Eddie.”

“Okay,” Eddie said, amused.

Venom, encouraged, lifted himself higher. “And! He might need some supplies! Like bacon!”

“Tony does enjoy bacon,” Eddie agreed.

Venom patted the edge of his pocket happily. “And that gross candy he likes, the one that looks like me!”

“The licorice buttons?” Eddie asked.

Venom scowled at him. “I don’t fucking know! It’s gross.”

Eddie laughed, rubbing his thumb over Venom’s head again to take some of the sting out of it. “Okay. Well, if we want to get back before dark, I suppose we better go do that now.”

“Get him lots of buttons, Eddie,” Venom ordered as Eddie folded up the newspaper to take with them as they left the hotel. “He likes them.”

Eddie laughed again before he agreed, “Okay, Venom. Just because you asked.”

.-.-.-.

Tony was happy to see them. The ugly little dogs were… less so.

“Give them the steak Eddie,” Venom hissed, huddling close to Eddie’s neck.

“No!” Eddie exclaimed, offended. The steak was for Tony. Tony looked a little thin, after all.

Luckily Tony was quick to shoo the dogs back under his wagon. They glared at Eddie and Venom balefully from where they lay, though, so Eddie wasn’t quite sure if he could call it a win. Maybe he should have given them the steak.

“Oh! I didn’t send any money!” Tony exclaimed, but he still took the bag of supplies Eddie handed him cheerfully. “What do I owe you?”

“It’s a gift,” Eddie said, stepping down from his horse. He rolled his eyes when Venom poked at his cheek fiercely and added, “Venom thought you might like it.”

“Oh,” Tony said again, smiling shyly down at the sack. “That was sweet. Thank you.”

“It was nothing,” Venom replied demurely.

Eddie thought that was pretty easy for him to say, considering he hadn’t had to pay for any of it. “Glad you like it,” he added, instead of embarrassing Venom. “Also, I don’t know if anyone told you the bad news, but—”

“Bad news?!” Venom sputtered, appalled.

Eddie grabbed him and shoved him in his breast pocket, continuing, “But unfortunately Judge Pierce has disappeared. So has everyone he was known to associate with.” Venom flailed a tentacle out at him and he slapped his hand down over his pocket, giving it a little shake as a non-verbal ‘shut up.’ “I’m still working on getting your property back to you, though, so maybe it'll be easier with the judge gone.”

“Oh,” Tony said. He tried to appear like he was sorry about it.

“Stop doing that with your face and just admit you don’t care,” Jarvis snapped.

Tony let the frown drop from his face, instead happily whispering, “I hope he was murdered.”

Venom flailed again angrily. Eddie did not uncover his pocket.

“You got me so many licorice buttons,” Tony commented as he went through the bag. “Not that I don’t appreciate them, of course, but—”

Venom bit the tip of Eddie’s finger and flailed out of his pocket to shout, “Because they look like me!”

Tony watched him roll down Eddie’s leg to flatten himself on the ground and then pop back up, tentacles spread as if to show off how excellently he’d pulled it off. He raised an eyebrow, smiling in confusion. “Because they look like you?”

“Black! Shiny! Round!” Venom confirmed, and then rounded his form to prove it, grinning up at him.

“Also kinda gross,” Eddie added.

“And kinda gro—_Hey!_” Venom gasped, whipping around to glare at him in betrayal.

“Licorice is _not_ gross,” Tony scoffed, and then squatted down to gently rub the top of Venom’s head. “And neither are you. Eddie just doesn’t know good candy when he sees it.” He reached into the bag to pull out one of the licorice buttons, handing it to him. “Here you go.”

“Oh… Thank you,” Venom said, taking the licorice button. He waited until Tony had turned his back to go put the groceries with his other supplies before wiggling over to the wagon. He frantically waved the licorice button at the ugly dogs until one of them took pity on him and licked it from his tentacles, swallowing the entire thing whole.

Eddie decided not to mention it, because licorice buttons were the worst and Jujubes were much better. “We’re still working on the legalities of it, but we’re pretty sure we’ll be able to get your ranch back. If not legally, I’m pretty sure the owner of the saloon is gonna forge some signatures after she casually murders Stane.”

“Oh!” Tony said, looking delighted. “I hope Natasha does! She always enjoys a good murder. Uh,” he added, paling, when both Eddie and Venom turned to stare at him blankly. “I mean. That is clearly a joke. She doesn’t actually kill people. Haha.”

“We also kill people,” Venom replied helpfully.

“Venom!” Eddie barked, spinning toward him.

“What!” Venom barked back.

Tony looked back and forth between them, then hopefully asked, “Wait, does that mean-? Was Judge Pierce actually _murdered?_”

Eddie blinked at him slowly before finally answering, bewildered, “Yeah.”

“And his cronies!” Venom added, waving his tentacles cheerfully. “They were delicious. Way better than chupacabras.”

“Oh,” Tony said, sounding relieved, then quickly did a double-take. “…W… what?”

Venom paused, remembering suddenly that humans did not typically eat each other. Then he turned and looked at Eddie, putting his tentacles over his mouth.

“You eat people?” Tony asked, turning to Eddie as well. He didn’t even try to pretend that his voice hadn’t cracked.

Eddie opened his mouth, closed it. He licked his lips as he tried to come up with a decent answer, then sighed and held his hands up. “_I_ don’t eat people. _Venom_ eats people. His kind, from what I understand, uh… Well, I don’t really understand at all,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his head. “Near as I can tell, their kind actually think they’re protecting us, because they try to only eat people who seek to harm others.”

“We eat the bad guys!” Venom agreed guilelessly, nodding. He slithered back over to Eddie and curled over him, and they spread their arms, showing Tony who—what, really—had eaten Judge Pierce and his followers.

Tony stared at them for several minutes, looking like he might bolt, but finally he just went, “Hng.”

“…Are you okay,” they asked, concerned, because now Tony kinda looked like he was just gonna fall over.

“Triangle,” Tony grunted, eyes darting up and down their body.

“…What,” Venom and Eddie asked. They looked down to try and see what he was seeing, but they couldn’t seem to figure out what it was, so they looked back up at him. “What are you—”

Tony let out a slightly hysterical laugh and turned his attention back to his supplies. “Who wants a licorice button?! I know I do!”

“What,” Venom and Eddie asked again, but Tony had already stuck a licorice button into his mouth and was determinedly sucking the salt off of it. Eventually Venom crawled off of Eddie’s body to curl up on his shoulder again, comforted in the fact that Eddie also didn’t understand what was going on. They considered just… leaving, because Tony was now obviously uncomfortable.

“Wait, does that mean you were coming to eat my fucking _dogs?!_” Tony exclaimed suddenly, whipping back toward them with a scowl.

“No,” Eddie answered immediately, at the same time Venom said, “Yes.”

Tony looked appalled. Somehow, so did all of his ugly little dogs.

.-.-.-.

“What the flamin’ hell happened t’ you,” Sheriff Rogers asked when they came limping back into town.

“Sheriff it was horrible!” Venom wailed from Eddie’s shoulder. “I told Tony I was going to eat his ugly little dogs and his dogs attacked us!”

Sheriff Rogers, who had been looking slightly concerned, immediately rolled his eyes. “Oh for Pete’s sake. You told Tony that you were gonna eat his only faithful companions for the last five years and you’re surprised he let them attack you?”

“I think one of them was poisonous,” Eddie said, looking down at a bite on his arm that was slowly turning green.

“That’s because they’re not fucking dogs,” Sheriff Rogers said, rolling his eyes again. “They were chupacabras and he used his magic t’ make them tiny and cute.”

Eddie stared at him for a long time before saying, “Sheriff.”

“What,” Sheriff Rogers asked, raising an eyebrow.

“If you ever call those ugly little monsters ‘cute’ again, I’m gonna punch you in the nose,” Eddie told him.

Sheriff Rogers looked offended for a fraction of a second before he was laughing. Eddie couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen the man relaxed enough to laugh. “Sounds fair,” he said once he’d calmed down, smiling, then nodded at his arm. “Have Bruce see t’ that before it goes black, ‘cause the chupacabras out here are venomous. And maybe figure out how you’re gonna apologize for insultin’ Tony’s ‘dogs.’”

“Will this actually kill me?!” Eddie asked, frowning at the wound again.

Sheriff Rogers raised his eyebrows at him, still smiling, and turned his horse to ride out of town.

“…Sheriff?” Eddie called after him, but the blond just waved.

.-.-.-.

Obadiah Stane and his son quietly left town after signing the Carbonell Ranch back over to Tony. At least, that’s what Tony said. And he seemed to believe it.

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Natasha had said calmly.

“She frightens me in ways I didn’t know I could be frightened Eddie,” Venom whispered once he was certain Natasha was gone.

Eddie couldn’t blame him. He was pretty sure Natasha could have killed any monster in the area in half the time for triple the amount he charged. And she didn’t even have a parasite to feed. “I think she’s supposed to,” he pointed out.

“I’m glad I bonded with you, Eddie, even though you don’t let me eat as much as I want,” Venom added.

Eddie rolled his eyes, but he didn’t rise to the bait, instead watching as Tony carefully navigated the other saloon patrons and dancing girls. As powerful as he knew Tony was, he looked incredibly small and nervous here. He wondered if it was because of how long he’d been out on the range, having to keep moving so that none of Stane’s men could find him, worried about who he could trust. He looked adorable.

He realized, quite suddenly, that he wanted to eat Tony alive.

Venom patted at Eddie’s cheek in concern. “Eddie. Eddie. I think I’m rubbing off on you if you want to eat Tony.”

“I don’t have time to explain it right now so just keep your mouth shut and I’ll tell you later,” Eddie said immediately.

“I wanted to thank you for all the supplies you brought me but the whiskey the bartender suggested was a bit spendy since I haven’t been able to access my mother’s money yet,” Tony said apologetically. “But he said you liked this beer. I hope that’s okay until I can afford a nice bottle.”

Eddie reached out and took the glass before he could look too embarrassed. “Beer’s fine. You don’t have to repay us. We _wanted_ to do it.”

Tony’s eyebrows flew up as his gaze darted from Eddie’s face to Venom and back again. “Oh, should I have gotten Venom a glass-?”

“Here I go,” Venom cut in, and then shoved his face in the glass. He emptied half the glass quickly before rolling off of Eddie’s hand to puddle on the table, looking quite pleased with himself. “Thank you, Tony,” he said, and then burped.

Tony poured his beer in his lap, staring at him.

“Sorry that he doesn’t have any manners,” Eddie said, and then drained the rest of his glass.

.-.-.-.

With control of the Carbonell Ranch firmly back in Tony’s hands, he felt no need to keep his ‘dogs’ small and unthreatening.

“They are still ugly, Eddie,” Venom proclaimed, sneering down at the chupacabras.

“Yeah, well, TONY,” Eddie bellowed when one of them—he thought Tony had called it ‘Dummy’ or something?—jumped and snapped at his leg. They really were venomous. Bruce had not been pleased about having to heal the infected bite wound.

Tony came rushing out onto the porch. “Hey, you guys, knock it off! You know that Eddie and Venom are friends!” He swatted at the chupacabras with the hand towel he’d been holding. “Cut it out!”

The chupacabras hissed and spat at Tony, but he wouldn’t be deterred. Eventually they had to give up under his unwavering bossiness, and they trudged back onto the porch and laid down, clearly sulking.

Tony brushed his hair out of his eyes with the back of his hand, huffing, then turned to look up at Venom and Eddie with a smile. “You guys are early! I haven’t quite finished supper, but feel free to help yourself to a cigar, or some bourbon, or… I don’t really know what else is in the crystal decanters,” he added thoughtfully as Eddie climbed off his horse. He ushered them into the house. “I’m sure they were something properly expensive from a woman of my mother’s standing, but I’m also equally sure that Obadiah probably drank it all himself and filled it with cheap stuff. I should probably be offering you nicer stuff, after all you’ve done for me—”

“Shiny,” Venom said, pleased, and snagged one of the crystal decanters with a tentacle, holding it up to admire his face in each facet.

“I think he’d like it regardless of what was in it,” Eddie assured Tony, amused. “Sorry we were early. Forgot we didn’t have to search you out and could just come to the ranch. Glad to see you’re settled in, though. We were kind of worried about you.”

Tony flushed a little, scratching the back of his head. “Oh, well, uh, I won’t say the adjustment wasn’t hard? I mean, I did go from sleeping under the stars on the hard ground to sleeping in a luxurious bed with wood over my head. There’s some… some give and take. But!” he added cheerfully. “I got access to my money, and my ranch, and it’s all thanks to you!”

“Well, Ms. Romanov and Sheriff Rogers certainly—” Eddie began demurely.

Venom drew himself up smugly, talking over him. “Yup! It was allll us! We did everything!”

“Venom,” Eddie said, appalled.

Luckily, Tony laughed instead of getting offended or anything, bustling back into the kitchen. “I’ll check on the potatoes! I figured you guys were meat-and-potatoes people. Hope that’s okay!”

“I will eat the meat, Eddie, and you can have the potatoes,” Venom said, sounding incredibly magnanimous.

“I will throw you at the floor,” Eddie replied immediately, just as magnanimous.

Venom stared at him, as if considering whether he’d actually do it in front of Tony. Eventually, he decided that Eddie would, instead holding the decanter toward him. “Pour me some of this, Eddie.”

Eddie took it as the olive branch it was and poured Venom a healthy tumbler full. He set it on the table at one of the plates that had been set out. “So how are you enjoying being in your family home?” he called out, watching as Venom cheerfully rolled down his arm and onto the table. Then he yelped and reached out to grab Venom before he could shove his entire face into the glass. “You sip it,” he hissed when Venom snarled and slapped at his hands. “You’re not going to sit here and get drunk when Tony is making us a nice dinner.”

“It’s sorta bittersweet!” Tony called back from the kitchen while Venom sulked. “Last time I was here was right after Mama had… Anyway. To make a long, awkward story short… I like having a home again. So, thank you so much for helping me get it back.” He appeared in the doorway holding a platter with meat and potatoes on it, smiling bashfully. He walked over to put it on the table. “And thanks for not eating my dogs.”

“They woulda been gross anyway,” Venom declared, and then peered at the platter. He reached out to snag a piece of meat. Then he let out a wounded gasp when Eddie smacked it away, covering it with another tentacle as he stared up at him. “Eddie!”

“Don’t be rude,” Eddie ordered. He was unable to keep the corner of his mouth from quirking up in an amused smile.

Venom gasped again, then turned beseeching eyes on Tony. “You see how he abuses me, Tony?”

“Poor baby,” Tony cooed, reaching out to carefully cup Venom in his hands. “Let me see.” Venom blinked at him, bewildered, but gamely showed Tony the offended tentacle. “It looks fine to me, but I better make sure.”

“Huh?” Venom asked, but Tony was quickly leaning in, bussing a gentle kiss against the extended appendage. He stared at his tentacle for a long moment, stunned, then sorta… sighed, smiling, and dripped from between Tony’s fingers back onto the table.

“Oh no,” Tony said, concerned, and he reached out to try and gather him up, but Eddie reached out and grabbed his hands to stop him. He looked up at Eddie from under his lashes, teeth biting into his bottom lip, as if he was ashamed, as if he’d done something wrong. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, bashful.

Eddie stroked a thumb over his knuckles. “What are you sorry for?” he asked, amused.

Tony glanced down at Venom, who was steadily puddling further across the table. His gaze slowly swept back up to Eddie’s face, frowning. “I… I must have hurt Venom when I… I was just teasing! I didn’t know—maybe I lost control of my powers for a minute? I… I can try to…”

“You can’t fix him being the most dramatic pest in the world, Tony,” Eddie told him, running his thumbs over Tony’s knuckles. He raised his eyebrows, lips quirking up into another amused smile. “Now where’s mine?”

Tony blinked at him slowly, as if in a trance. “Yours?” he asked after a moment, confused.

Eddie chuckled quietly. “You kissed Venom, so it’s only fair you kiss me, right?”

Tony blinked again, stunned, then murmured, “But you’re not hurt.”

“Tony,” Eddie said, laughter in his voice. “Neither was Venom. Like I said—the most dramatic pest in the world.”

Tony stared up at him, brows furrowing together in confusion and chagrin. Finally, he managed to say a quiet, embarrassed, “Oh.”

Eddie’s smile fell. “I’m not making you uncomfortable, am I?”

“Well, I—” Tony’s cheeks went pink, and he ducked his gaze bashfully. “I never really got the chance to—I mean, I kissed a few girls in the schoolyard, of course, I wasn’t a shy child, but… When Mama died, I had to leave quickly, and then it was a—a very solitary lifestyle, you know, and—”

“Do you want to kiss me?” Eddie cut in. That was all that mattered, after all. If Tony didn’t want to kiss him, then he shouldn’t. And if he did, well…

Tony’s flush darkened under Eddie’s gaze, and he chewed on his lower lip for a moment before whispering, “I do, I just… It’s—it’s been a while, and… what if you don’t like it?”

“Tony, rest assured, if it’s you? I _will_ like it,” Eddie assured him gently.

Tony peeked up at him, still unsure. His flush was quickly spreading down his neck to his chest. It was cute. “You’re sure?” he asked.

“Positive,” Eddie promised, lifting a hand to cup his cheek.

Tony seemed to melt into his hand, eyelids drifting low until his lashes were fanned over his cheeks, and his tongue darted out to wet his lips. Eddie swallowed thickly, then dipped his head, slowly, in case Tony changed his mind.

“Tony,” Jarvis said. “The food is going to get cold.”

Tony and Eddie jerked away from each other as if they’d had a bucket of water thrown on them. In all honesty, maybe it would have been better if it actually had, because when they turned to look at Jarvis, he stared back, unflinching.

Tony turned betrayed eyes onto the wolf sitting on the other side of the table. “Jarvis, why would you ruin our moment?”

“I didn’t sit in a kitchen telling you how to make the perfect roast just for it to go cold,” Jarvis scolded him, glaring. “Hurry and get the gravy before it burns. I’ll not be embarrassed by a cold roast and burnt gravy.”

“The gravy!” Tony gasped rushing back into the kitchen.

Eddie stared at Jarvis, appalled. “Are you the protector of his innocence or something!?”

“I am the protector of gravy,” Jarvis replied sternly. “Sit down and get ready to eat. Tony worked hard on this meal. He wanted to impress you.”

“He did?” Eddie asked, and then awkwardly sank into his seat when Jarvis kept giving it a pointed look.

Jarvis waited until he was settled to his satisfaction before he replied, “Of course he did. Don’t be an idiot. It’s an unbecoming look on you.” Then he stood up and trotted around the table to head outside, intending to lounge with the chupacabras, who were looking very undignified with their bellies up to the sun, tongues lolling out of their mouths.

“Hey!” Eddie called after him, offended.

Then Tony was coming back out of the kitchen, a gravy boat held carefully in his hands, and Eddie felt his heart flip in his chest when he saw the serious expression on Tony’s face, as if dinner would be ruined if he even spilled a drop of it. He must really care about what they thought of dinner.

It was too bad that Venom would probably shove his face in the gravy boat once he recovered from the bliss of having received a kiss from Tony, Eddie lamented.

.-.-.-.

There was a swing on the porch.

Tony shooed Jarvis and the chupacabras away so that they could sit on it and watch the sun set. Eddie laid his arm on the back of the bench behind Tony, then threw caution to the wind and wrapped his arm around Tony’s shoulders. Tony beamed up at him before turning his eyes on the horizon.

Venom was lounging in his breast pocket, smug and full from draining half the gravy boat at dinner, a steady and comforting weight. The chupacabras started pouncing on lightning bugs as the light faded while Jarvis kept a careful eye on them, apparently deciding that Eddie and Venom weren’t a threat to their favorite person.

It was a nice night. He wouldn’t mind if more of his nights ended like this.

“I just wanted to thank you guys again for helping me,” Tony said quietly, as if not wanting to disturb the evening. “I know the sheriff and Natasha helped—they get this look on their faces when they’re trying to pretend they didn’t have anything to do with something—but I feel like you really sped up the process of whatever they were trying to do.”

“Eating a crooked judge probably greased some wheels,” Eddie replied wryly.

“Well,” Tony began, then tilted his head, pausing to truly consider the information. Finally, he continued, “You’re probably right.”

Venom wiggled up out of his pocket just enough to be able to say, “It’s his worst feature, being right.”

“Venom, you’re ruining the mood,” Eddie said, as blandly as he possibly could, because getting angry would only be rewarding him. “Go back to being a smug asshole in my pocket.”

“I’m going back because I want to, not because you told me to,” Venom informed him, petulant, and sank back into his pocket. Perhaps he shouldn’t have had so much gravy. He felt very full and sleepy. He’d have to get back at Eddie for ordering him about later. “It was good gravy, Tony,” he added before he sank all the way down. “Thank you for sharing it with us.”

“Oh, thank you,” Tony replied, beaming at him. He soaked up the praise like a sponge, almost glowing with it in the fading light. “I’m glad you liked it! It was my first time making a real gravy.”

Eddie gave his shoulders a gentle squeeze. “It was delicious,” he assured him. “We’ve always loved a home-cooked meal, and yours was incredible.”

Tony’s smile went small and shy. “Maybe you guys would like to come over for another?”

“We’d love to,” Eddie answered, before Venom could pop up and utter something that offended him even though he was trying to agree. “After all, we wouldn’t want you go get lonely out here on your ranch. No offense,” he added hastily when the chupacabras turned to glare at him. “But sometimes human company is what’s needed.”

“Such as it is,” Jarvis deadpanned, which seemed to soothe the chupacabras enough to let out sounds a lot like cackling biddies.

Eddie scowled at them, offended. He was perfectly human. It was just that sometimes he bonded with Venom to eat… things. He was still a squishy human inside though. He never actually changed form.

“Sometimes it’s nice to have another human to talk to,” Tony agreed quietly, smiling down at his lap. “Even if there _is_ a pushy little monster in his pocket.”

“I’m not pushy,” Venom complained, but didn’t move. He was still much too full, and much too comfortable in Eddie’s pocket, and Tony had sounded teasing, anyhow. Tony was very nice, even if he did have bad taste in candy. Licorice buttons were bad.

“You’re kinda pushy,” Eddie mused, lifting a hand to scratch his chin. “But it’s not bad. I never have to worry you’re gonna flip-flop on an important decision.”

Venom wiggled up out of his pocket to shoot him a smug smile. “Like kissing Tony!”

Tony and Eddie blinked at him, surprised, before Tony said, “Venom, _I_ kissed _you_.”

“Nah,” Venom replied immediately, settling back in Eddie’s pocket. “Pretty sure I tempted you.”

Eddie’s mouth dropped open at the audacity of his lie. Venom had done nothing tempting. He’d been a fucking drama queen.

“…Yup,” Tony said after a moment, luckily looking amused. “You got me. You definitely tempted me.”

“That’s because I am very romantic, Tony,” Venom assured him.

Tony giggled and lifted a hand to cover his mouth to try and hide some of his amusement, finally managing to amusedly agree, “Of course.”

“And! Because I’m so romantic!” Venom added, poking out of Eddie’s pocket again. “I think you should kiss Eddie too! Because he’s got kissable lips! Like pillows!”

“Venom!” Eddie exclaimed, blushing, and glared at him.

Venom, for once realizing he might have overstepped in human norms, quietly sank back into his pocket, waving a tentacle at him nervously. Eddie wasn’t able to hurt him, but he sure yelled loud and long when he was upset with him, and he usually actually managed to make Venom feel remorse. Venom hadn’t been aware that he _could_ feel remorse.

Luckily, Tony laughed again, apparently unoffended. Still, Eddie hurried to say, “I’m so sorry. I’m still trying to drill human manners into him. I swear you don’t have to kiss me just because he said to. It won’t hurt my feelings.”

Tony smiled up at him shyly. “But you wouldn’t mind? If I did kiss you, I mean.”

Eddie stared at him, stunned. He’d never expected Tony to be so bold. Then again, he had no idea why he’d thought that. Tony had been living on his own with only his magic to take care of himself for years. The desert didn’t take pity on the meek—what wasn’t killed by the heat was prey for the animals, and what the animals couldn’t take down, there was always an outlaw with a gun ready to do it for them.

Tony had done an admirable job keeping his spirits up, considering that Stane had regularly sent search parties out to hunt him down, so he couldn’t shelter at one of the rivers or any of the oases. The sheriff had told him about some of the corpses that he’d found after an altercation with Tony—Tony had wielded his magic ruthlessly, with the efficiency of a man who had become used to fighting for his life. Then he used the same magic to make the chupacabras that had been stalking him into ugly little dogs to keep him company.

And he’d never looked at Eddie and Venom with even an ounce of true fear. Only concern that he'd have to defend himself.

“No,” Eddie finally managed to answer, unable to tear away from Tony’s shy gaze. “I wouldn’t mind at all.”

Tony smiled, eyes bright. He lifted his hands up, delicately cupping Eddie’s cheeks between them. His hands were soft, softer than Eddie had thought a rancher’s might. He wondered if it was because of the magic thrumming through him, or the vampire blood from his father. He it didn’t matter as he felt Tony’s thumb trail across his bottom lip, eyes drifting shut at the gentle touch. He felt Tony’s thumb move away, but it was quickly replaced with the ghost of his warm breath.

The kiss was softer than he expected, for as boldly as Tony had asked to kiss him. He didn’t press in too hard, didn’t nip or lick. It was just the soft press of Tony’s lips against his. But with Tony’s hands curled around his face, and his lips so soft and sweet, Eddie didn’t mind. It was a perfect first kiss—hopefully the first of many.

“Oh,” Tony said softly after he leaned back.

Eddie forced his eyes open to take him in. Tony’s face was flushed, lips soft and red. His eyelids fluttered open for just a moment before drifting shut again. As Eddie watched, Tony lifted his hand to gently run his fingers over his lips. Eddie swallowed thickly, fighting the urge to grab him and drag him into another kiss.

“Oh,” Tony said again, eyes finally blinking open. “Wow.” His eyes took on a teasing sparkle. “They really _do_ feel like pillows.”

“Right?!” Venom exclaimed gleefully.

“I’ll leave,” Eddie said.

Tony reached out to grab his arm, laughing. “Nooo, Eddie I was just teasing!”

“If you two are going to gang up on me, I’m going to go back to California,” Eddie added.

Venom started crawling up his shirt with his tentacles, wailing, “Noooo, Eddie, there are no steer there! I finally learned to eat just one at a time!”

“I guess we’ll have to stop teasing you then,” Tony said, in a tone that made it clear he would not stop doing it at all. He fluttered his eyelashes up at him. “Maybe we should just go back to watching the sunset instead of kissing again.”

Eddie sputtered. “Now, let’s not be hasty!”

“No, I’m sure we’ve put you out of the mood now,” Tony said, taking Eddie’s hands and turning back to the sun, which was quickly disappearing beyond the horizon. “I’ll try to remember not to tease you next time.”

“Look what you’ve done, Eddie,” Venom complained, sinking back into his pocket with a petulant scowl.

“You’re both brats,” Eddie stated. “I regret everything that has led me up to this moment.”

Venom slapped his chest with a tentacle, fondly declaring, “Liar. I’m a delight.”

“You’re something,” Eddie allowed. He looked at Tony and raised an eyebrow, smiling in amusement. “And you are too.”

Tony chuckled and tipped his head to give him a smug look out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah, but I get the feeling you don’t actually mind too much.”

Eddie tried to scowl at him, but it was true, so he wasn’t sure he kept it up very well.

“Tony,” Jarvis complained. “He’s making a very unattractive face. Tell him to stop that.”

“Just for that, I’m going to make sure you see my face more often than you’d ever want,” Eddie told him immediately. Then he looked back at Tony. “If that’s alright, I mean.”

Tony hummed and turned to smile at him. “It’s alright with me. Guess it’ll help the chupacabras get used to you too.”

Eddie personally thought that this was not the gift Tony thought it was, but he didn’t say so, instead gripping his hands back tightly. Maybe if he played his cards right, he’d get another kiss before they left.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Date with a Book(seller)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22787059) by [iam93percentstardust](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iam93percentstardust/pseuds/iam93percentstardust)


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